


Soulmate Archive

by RydiaAsuka



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RydiaAsuka/pseuds/RydiaAsuka
Summary: Idea by tumbrl user, thewinterbucky. Injuries and scars show up on the skin of your soulmate.Growing up, Kaladin was eager to meet his soulmate. Sadly, life had a way of getting in the way of that. After his sale into slavery, he doubted he would ever meet them. Yet fate is a fickle thing indeed. When, despite all odds, he stumbles across his soulmate anyway, he finds himself sincerely wishing he hadn't.Well, at least he didn't need to feel guilty about the slave brands, now.
Relationships: Kaladin/Adolin Kholin
Comments: 76
Kudos: 178





	1. Way of Soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> Wow this is, uh...a lot longer than I anticipated. Part two (Words of Radiance) is written (and over triple the length). I'll be dabbling into Oathbringer, next. Not sure about Rhythm of War, yet. I'm done the book but undecided. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! This idea really seized my attention and I've been writing it for weeks. Hope it's as enjoyable to read as it was to write!
> 
> Comments are my bread and Nutella.

Kal watched, curious, as his father gently pressed the large bruise on his upper arm. It was a deep, ugly purple, and would certainly have been agonisingly painful...if he had been able to feel it. But he had learned early on that soulmate wounds weren't like that. He could see them, but there was no actual harm to his body. A laceration would not bleed, no matter how deep, and no bruise ever hurt. They just...were. 

"You are certain it doesn't hurt, Kal?" his father asked, pressing down again. 

" _Yes,_ " Kal grumbled, pulling his arm free. "I told you, I'm fine. I didn't do it."

Lirin sighed, letting Kal pull away. "Okay. Just tell me if starts to hurt."

"It won't. It's my soulmate's." For some reason, Kaladin's father frowned at that, glancing to his mother. 

Hesina shook her head—Kal didn't know why— and Lirin sighed. "Get back to your studies."

Kal groaned, his parents' silent exchange forgotten. "Can't I go play with Tien?" Honestly, how many other boys his age had to study anatomical diagrams all day? Most of the other eight-year-olds wouldn't even know what anatomical _meant_. 

Lirin frowned, but Hesina cut him off, speaking first. "One more hour. I want Tien to help me with the laundry, first. Then you boys can go play."

Kal sighed, but nodded. "Okay, okay."

With his mother having the final word, Kal retrieved his book from the floor. Cracking it open, he turned to the pictures and glyphs.

"...another bruise, Lirin," Hesina said as they headed towards the house. The clinic wasn't very big, so Kaladin could easily hear them as they stopped by the door, talking in hushed tones. "He's getting a lot of those."

"I know." 

"...they're not his."

"...I know."

"Storms, Lirin, I wish I knew who she was. I wish—“

Kal wanted that, too. He wanted to meet his soulmate.

"Me too, Hesina. I wish we could help." For some reason, Father sounded strained. 

The door to the house opened and closed, and Kal thought no more of it. 

~

"Who do you think your soulmate is?" Laral asked, prodding a fresh bruise on Kaladin's forearm. She used her uncovered safehand to hold his wrist while her freehand poked at his discoloured skin. 

Kal shrugged, inspecting the bruise himself. "I doubt I've met them."

"Probably not," Laral agreed, releasing him and sitting back on her haunches. "She sure is clumsy."

Kal shrugged. "Maybe it's something else."

Laral rolled her eyes. "Don't be stupid, Kal. Nobody who gives as many soulbond marks as you get could possibly be anything but clumsy."

"What if they're a soldier?"

"No way. You're nine. And girls aren't soldiers."

Kal shrugged. 

"I bet you'll never meet her, anyway," Laral continued, almost contemplative. "Not everyone marries their soulmate, you know."

"Why do you care, Laral?" Kal asked, annoyed. "It's not your problem."

"What if it was?" Laral asked, sitting back on the rock, hands supporting her. Her long hair tumbled back as she looked up at the sky. 

"But it's not."

"What if I was your soulmate?"

It was Kal's turn to roll his eyes. "But you're not."

"What if I was?"

"This is stupid," Kal said, standing and brushing off his pants. "You aren't my soulmate, Laral."

"No, but not everyone ever even meets theirs. You probably won't."

"Maybe they're in Kharbranth. I could meet them when I go."

Laral shook her head, standing with him. "Maybe, but you should really think about it. You might need to marry someone else."

Kal hopped down from the rock, waving for Tien to join them. "Maybe," he said. "But who cares about that now?"

Laral followed him down, a sight more gracefully. "You will someday, Kal."

"I guess," he said. "But right now it's dinner time."

Laral sighed. "Fine. See you,tomorrow?"

"Sure," Kal said, then together he and Tien ran off.

~

"Storms, boy, you look like you've had the crem kicked out of you."

Kal frowned at the new brightlord, but didn't rise to the jibe. The bruises from his soulbond had tapered off over the years, but during the previous day his soulmate had clearly been in a fight. And lost. Badly. Kaladin hoped they were okay. 

"You alright, kid?"

"Yes, Brightlord," he said. The man was kind of a pile of chull dung walking, but Kal knew better than to disrespect him directly. Especially here in the town square, where a dozen ears would hear and report back to his father. 

"So, what happened?"

Kal had no idea why he cared. Roshone certainly didn't seem to care about anything else in Hearthstone. But he forced himself to humour the man. "I don't know. They're from my soulbond."

Roshone snorted. "Storming kid. Couldn't be that easy."

Kaladin had no idea what that meant, but he was relieved when the man went away. He let the matter fall aside as he hurried home, the day's shopping under his arm.

~

Adolin knew, for sure, that his soulmate lived a soft life. He rarely got any unexplained bruises or cuts, and his skin was utterly devoid of scars from her. Some highborn lighteyes, likely, living a pampered life in a mansion. He often found himself wondering what she looked like, or who she was. Had they met, already? 

...privately, he hoped not. He didn't really like any of them all that much. Oh, he enjoyed their company, liked to entertain them, loved to take them for walks. His mother had instilled in him a sense of propriety that he did not squander. 

But none of that felt _right_ to Adolin. 

That all changed when he turned nineteen. It was like a switch had been flipped, and one day his soulmate was soft and easy, and the next—

Well, Adolin knew training wounds when he saw them. He also knew that his soulmate got good, and he—Adolin was certain of that, now. The first day made that clear—got good fast. The real wounds were not long in following, but for a new soldier, Adolin was both surprised and unbelievably relieved that there were not as many as there could have been. 

Still, his soulmate did not have shardplate, that was for certain, and nearly all of the scars Adolin sported by the age of twenty-two were not his own. That was fine, though. A strapping young man, skilled with the sword? Adolin could appreciate that.

He didn't know where the man was, but he kept an eye out, combing the ranks of his own troops, just in case. He made a point of getting to know the sons on his father's officers, and did his best to expand beyond the borders of their warcamp, as well. There was no telling where his soulmate would be found.

Privately, though, he humoured the idea of meeting him in epic combat. Perhaps in the duelling arena. They would clash, and the battle would be the closest of Adolin's short, but illustrious, career. Adolin would win, of course, but he would gain his soulmate's respect in the process. 

After, they would get to know one another, perhaps over a cup of wine. The attraction would come first, the camaraderie. Then, perhaps, they would realise they shared the same injuries from the duel, and...

"Adolin."

Adolin started from his fantasy, glancing sheepishly over at his brother. Outside, a highstorm raged, wind and rain pounding against the bunker's stormshutters. "Uh, Ren."

"...thinking about him again?" There was no need to clarify who him was. 

Adolin smiled wryly. "...yeah."

Renarin moved, dropping onto the sofa next to Adolin. "Anything good this time?"

Adolin blushed. "...just thinking about duelling."

"With your soulmate," Renarin said knowingly. 

Adolin laughed, running a hand through his hair. "With my soulmate."

"...are you ever going to tell father your theory?"

That made Adolin wince, eyes widening as he quickly cast a glance around the room. Thankfully, Dalinar wasn't within earshot. "...I don't know. I think I should just...act surprised."

"...maybe," Renarin agreed, sparing their father a glance as well. "That might be for the best."

Adolin nodded. "...though, maybe he won't care. I mean, it's not like I get to pick my soulmate."

"That's true, but there's also no law that you marry your soulmate, either."

"I'm going to."

Renarin smiled. "I know you will."

Adolin nodded, reaching up to clutch his shoulder, which now sported a nasty discolouration. That wound wasn't his own, however, so it didn't hurt. His soulmate was an excellent fighter, but even he took the occasional blow. Adolin was almost happy for that, for it meant the man was still alive. 

"I hope I get to meet him soon."

"I'm sure you will."

And so Adolin kept waiting. And daydreaming. And waiting. 

And then, right around Adolin's twenty-third birthday, that all changed.

~

It was nearly two years into Kaladin's time in the army that the realisation struck. He was preparing a poultice for a particularly nasty wound on his shoulder, taken in battle earlier that day. The skin wasn't broken, but the butt of the spear had taken him hard, leaving a nasty bruise that had swollen quickly. 

His soulmate. His parents had been wrong all along, their worries and concerns unfounded and unnecessary. 

His soulmate? She had never been in danger. And she'd never been a she. 

The wounds Kaladin had sported told the tale of a young man training in the spear. Nothing more nefarious than that. In fact, if his parents hadn't been so set on "she", maybe they would have seen the signs earlier. 

Well, that didn't bother Kaladin. Maybe they were with the armies on the Shattered Plains. If he could just get his company there, maybe they would meet at last. 

Laral had been wrong, she had to be. Kaladin would find him, somewhere, somehow. He just needed to get better. He needed to join the real armies. His soulmate waited there. 

So he fought, and he trained, and he saved as many as he could. He would make it eventually. He had to. 

~

Kaladin had thought a lot about his soulmate, growing up. He barely spared him a thought as the branding iron burned into his flesh, however. That was a problem for another day. 

~

"Adolin, your—“

At his brother's gasped words, Adolin set down his folio, glancing up at his brother. "Ren?"

Renarin's face paled further, his eyes horrified. "Adolin, your _forehead_."

Confused, Adolin reached up. "My forehead—?” He froze. His fingers met a series of tough ridges, ones that had most certainly not been there that morning. He examined them more, running his fingers across his forehead. 

Then he jumped up, racing a polished mirror hanging on the wall. Sweeping aside his bangs, he stared in horror at the burn marks there. Those were—

"Adolin..." Renarin said softly. 

Adolin clenched his jaw, turning away from mirror. Then he forced a small smile. _Stay calm, Adolin._ "This must be payback for all the bruises I gave him as a kid."

Renarin looked like he wanted to say something, but Adolin did not give him a chance. Without another word, he retreated to his room. He needed to... Needed to...

He slumped against the wall, forehead pressed into the cool stone. He couldn't feel the brand, but his forehead felt white-hot anyway. Those brands were more telling than anything else. 

How could this have happened? His soulmate was supposed to be a _hero_. Not a slave. Not a...

A...

A darkeyes?

~

Kaladin didn't think about his soulmate anymore. He had enough problems without thinking about some unknown man in an unknown land. When the occasional cut or bruise showed up on his skin, he ignored it. Everyone had a soulmate. Many people never met them.

Kaladin was just another one of those. 

~

Adolin avoided all contact that first night. Renarin wouldn't tell anyone, and Adolin needed the time to come to peace with this himself.

By the next morning, he had.

He met his father and brother for breakfast. Renarin did not so much as glance at his forehead. If only their father could be so tactful. 

"Adolin—!"

Adolin met Dalinar's eyes and nodded, then sat at the table without a word. 

"Your _forehead_."

"What about it?"

"Do not play coy, Adolin. What happened? That is—“

"I don't know," he said frankly. "But it doesn't matter. They're still my soulmate."

"Adolin..."

"What would you like me to do, father? Go ask him what happened?"

"What of course no—him?" Dalinar repeated, eyes widening faintly.

Adolin grimaced. Stress had made him careless. He glanced away, shrugging. "My soulmate is a soldier. I assumed—“ 

"What makes you think they're a soldier, son?" Dalinar did not sound...thrilled. But at least he wasn't yelling. 

"He gets a lot of injuries. Ones consistent with a battlefield. I can't see any other reason for that."

Dalinar sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Adolin...you know this cannot stand."

Of course. His duty. His responsibilities. Social standing. Sometimes, in moments like this, Adolin hated it all. 

"Father." Dalinar frowned, but did not respond directly, merely nodded. "Father...you know I respect you more than any other person. So with all due respect...no. This is one thing I won't give up for anyone. I will find my soulmate, and I will be with him. I don't care how it looks."

"We'll talk about this later."

"Father—“

" _Later_ , Adolin. After you've taken some time to really think this over."

"...fine." Except Adolin already had. And this was his decision. 

~

The looks Adolin received, near constantly, no longer swayed him. It wasn't his fault his soulmate had the brand, but it was his choice not to hide it. He wore it with pride. His soulmate—perhaps he had been taken as a war prisoner. That would make sense. Or maybe he had retreated from battle after receiving unacceptable orders, like killing children or looting. 

Whatever it was, Adolin would see it cleared up for him. This was just a setback, nothing more. A person in Adolin's position could clear up anything. 

He just had to find his soulmate, first.

It was not exactly acceptable for Adolin to go crawling through every slave pen, so instead he hired a team of soldiers to inspect all of the caravans being brought to the Shattered Plains. 

At first, Adolin thought it would be easy. Just check them all. Except, Adolin sported a simple slave brand, as did nearly all of the slaves that came in. Despite the exact replica that had been taken, copied, and handed out amongst his men, it was impossible to tell one brand from another. 

At least, until the morning Adolin woke up to find an addition to his brand. 

_Shash_. Dangerous. 

_At least that narrows it down_ , he thought grimly. 

~

Adolin frowned down at his feet as he readied himself for bed. What in _storming Damnation_ had happened to them?

~

"Something on your mind, Kal?"

Kaladin glanced over at the familiar voice. Moash. He offered a short nod of acknowledgement, then turned back to gaze over the plains. 

Moash settled down on a rock next to Kaladin's. "Wanna talk about it?"

Kaladin shrugged, not turning away from his silent vigil. 

Moash shoved his shoulder lightly. "Our strong, silent leader. C'mon, Kal. What's on your mind?"

"...did you ever meet your soulmate?" Kaladin asked, turning to his friend. 

"What? No—I mean, did you?"

Kaladin shrugged. "I don't think so."

Moash shrugged. "Me, either. But who really cares about all that, anyway? Just a heaping pile of chull leavings, if you ask me."

Kaladin frowned. Maybe Moash was right. After all, what had the whole thing gotten him beyond worries parents? The entire system was just ruining two people's lives instead of one, now. 

Almighty, he wished he could change this.

"What brought this on, Kal?"

"My brands," he said after a lengthy pause, rubbing his forehead. "I'll never meet my soulmate, but I ruined his life anyway."

"No, Kal, you didn’t. _They_ did."

Kaladin hesitated, then nodded. "They don't care how many lives they ruin, do they?"

"So long as they stay in power? No."

Kaladin grunted. Moash was right. He still wished he could apologise, anyway. 

~

Adolin retreated the night his soulmate died. He did not understand. His body was shredded, as though he faced the fury of the night's Highstorm directly. His wounds did not bleed, of course, they did not even hurt. But his soulmate. No one could survive that.

He hid the injuries and grieved in secret. What else could he do? He could not bring himself to talk about it, not even to Renarin. Was this to be his fate? A dead soulmate could not heal wounds, so was he to remain like this forever?

What had the man done to anger his master to warrant such a beating?   
_Shash_. 

...Adolin supposed he could imagine.

That was the end, then. He grieved. He truly did.

Then, ten days later, the injuries were done healing, leaving not even a scar.

~

Kaladin had heard rumours of Dalinar Kholin. He didn't put any stock in them. Amaram had been celebrated in the same way. No lighteyes could be that good. 

He had, by extention, heard rumours of Dalinar Kholin's heir. A man apparently seeking something amongst the armies' slaves. Whatever it was, it did not extend as far as the bridge crews. Nobody could be that desperate, _especially_ not a Kholin.

What he really did not expect was to find the young man in the Sadeas warcamp. Adolin, that was his name, wore the neat uniform of an officer, and his guards carried themselves with poise and discipline. Far more respectable than anything Kaladin had ever seen in Sadeas' camp. 

The exchange did not last long, and ended with Sadeas' officer slinking away like a beaten axehound. Inwardly, Kaladin was slightly—but only slightly—impressed. Externally, he scowled.

"Ho, Bridgeboy!"

_Bridgeboy?_

The man strode over to him, perfectly mussy, blond hair mixed with black framed his face, a few strands dangling over his forehead, slightly obscuring the markings there. 

Wait. 

Kaladin's frowned deepened, forehead creasing. No way. By the _Almighty’s tenth name_ , no _storming_ way...! 

"I need you to—“

Kaladin ducked his head, letting his too-long hair shroud his forehead. He did not wait to hear the rest of what Kholin was saying. He turned and ran. 

-

"Kaladin? Kaladin!"

Kaladin ignored Syl's cried, not stopping until he was back the barrack. Storm it. Just his _storming_ luck. A lighteyes, and not just any lighteyes! A storming high ranked one, even for a lighteyes. 

He threw open the door to the barrack and strode inside, ignoring the few calls of greeting from his teammates. Thankfully, nobody was actually inside at this time of the day, so he had the place to himself as he slumped on his pallet. 

"Kaladin? What is it? What's wrong? You're scaring me."

"...all this time, Syl, I've been feeling guilty."

"Guilty? About that woman?"

Kaladin shook his head. "About my soulmate. I thought I'd ruined his life. But he was one of them all along. Storms!" He let out a harsh bark of a laugh. "The Almighty has a cruel sense of humour, Syl."

"Kaladin..."

"At least I don't have anything to regret." He shook his head. "I can finally move on."

"...but you really wanted to meet your soulmate." 

Kaladin shook his head. "That was years ago, Syl." And how did she even know that? "Life has a way of making the dreams of a kid out to be utterly foolish."

Syl floated closer, in the form of a flapping banner. One that bore the Kholin glyphpair. "I don't think it’s childish, Kaladin. It's good to want something, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone."

"It will hurt someone, Syl. It'll hurt me."

"...I don't think that's true." She shifted to her usual form, that of a young girl, and hugged herself. "I think you're," and here her tone took on a lecturing quality, "just afraid to be happy."

Before he could respond, the door banged open, and Rock's massive for, filled the doorway. "Ah, here you are! Come, there is stew to be had. The men will not be starting without you, this is true."

Kaladin nodded and stood. 

"Kaladin..."

"Later, Syl." Or never, preferably. 

~

Sadeas had abandoned Dalinar. Moreover, Sadeas had abandoned Kaladin's soulmate. Try as he might to forget that fact, it had never been far from Kaladin's mind. Oh, maybe nothing would ever come of it—in fact, he was certain of that—but he also did not want the man to die. Not like that.

So, they went back.

~

Adolin was going to die. He had not made peace with that. Renarin? He wasn't ready to be highprince. Aunt Navani didn't need to cry more. Who would protect Elhokar? 

...who would put Sadeas in his place?

And then they came. A single, solitary bride crew, carrying their bridge at an all out sprint. It was the weird crew, the one with all the bones. Well, Adolin would, frankly, take a gaggle of ardents if he thought it could save them and their army. 

_Almighty, please._

He did not want to leave his soulmate alone.

~

By some miracle of the Almighty, the crew made it. They set their bridge. 

Then, just like that, they storming fought off an entire _horde_ of parshendi. 

Adolin set his troops into an ordered, if hasty, retreat. The bridge was their only chance, and if it was lost, so were they. He got his men positioned to assist the bridgemen—the _fighting_ bridgemen—then turned back. He had to find his father. They had been separated in the shuffle and Adolin was not about to leave him behind. 

He didn't get far before one of the bridgemen intercepted him. The man was tall, almost unfairly so, with messy, dark locks that hung across his face. He grabbed Adolin's arm, forcing him draw up short.

"Kholin!"

Adolin wrenched his arm free. "I need to get to my father, bridgeman!"

"No, you need to retreat," the man snapped, shoving his sweat-drenched hair out of his eyes. 

And Adolin's world froze.

"Your men won't leave without you, and mine won't leave without _them_! So get on your horse and get out of here!"

There, plain as day, was a pair of markings that Adolin was intimately familiar with, for they marred his own forehead. "Uh—“ he said, intelligently. 

The stranger—his _soulmate_ —shoved him towards Sureblood. "Get out of here!"

"But...Father."

"I'll go get him! Just move!"

Numb, Adolin went.

~

It hadn't been a duel. It had been on the battlefield, though. The worst battle of Adolin's life. And he had saved Adolin's life. And Adolin’s father's life. And the lives of over _twenty-six hundred_ of their troops. 

He was a darkeyes. Adolin had known he would be. But, Almighty, he was arrogant and brash and rude and a _storming hero_. He was nothing like Adolin had imagined him to be. He was both so much better and so much worse. 

He worked off to the side, moving among the bridgemen checking for injuries. The man had to be exhausted, but he carried himself like a true officer, seeing to his troops first. There was a nobility, there, Adolin had to admit. 

Forcing himself to turn away, Adolin went back to collecting reports. As he received them, he walked back towards his father. Dalinar had been far worse off than Adolin, but he appeared to be recovering nicely. As Adolin approached, he climbed to his feet. 

"Adolin—“

"We're alive," Adolin said. But that cost...

Dalinar nodded. "I should go thank our saviours."

"...I'll come with you," Adolin said carefully. Storms, had the man seen the brand on Adolin? Did he know? He'd barely glanced this way...

Together, they walked over to where Adolin's soulmate was apparently bandaging one of his wounded. Storms, was there anything the man didn't do? 

"Bridgemen."

While the others looked up, Adolin's soulmate did not so much as glance at them. He made a show of inspecting the bandage, nodding, satisfied, and only then did he turn, standing. 

"Brightlord." A glance at Adolin. "Brightlords."

"I believe we owe you and yours a great debt."

"You do," the man said, wiping his hands. To Adolin's—relief? Disappointment?—his bangs hung over his forehead, obscuring the details of his brand. "But I think the three thousand men out there are enough thanks."

Dalinar's brow furrowed. "I'm afraid—“

"They're alive. So it was worth it." Brown eyes suddenly pinned onto Adolin. "You're alive. That doesn't negate the grotesque loss of life, but it is something."

Dalinar smiled faintly. "Then we agree on that."

The man nodded. 

"Dalinar Kholin." Dalinar offered a hand. "And my eldest son, Adolin."

"Kaladin," he said, taking the hand after only a moment of hesitation. 

"Kaladin—“ Adolin tried, then stopped. Those dark eyes pinned him down, and he found himself feeling a fool. What was he going to say? Hey, nice to meetcha, soulmate? Storms...

At the exact moment, a harsh breeze picked up, wind spren unfurling upon the currents. Kaladin's hair whipped back, exposing his forehead—and was Adolin just imagining the _glower_ the men aimed at the passing spren? 

That wasn't important. What _was_ important was the gasp from his father. "Adolin—“

"If that's all, I need to see to my men," Kaladin said, turning away. 

"No, that won't be all."

Kaaldin stiffened. "With all due respect, Sir, I believe I have given as much as I can reasonably be asked. I have no interest in more."

"...very well," Dalinar said at length. Adolin could not find his voice. "Get your men ready to move. I do not want to delay the trip home for too long."

Kaladin nodded and walked away.

Adolin sagged. What in damnation was wrong with him? Why hadn't he said anything? Storms...

~

"C'mon, gon, you can't just ignore that!"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do, Lopen," Kaladin responded sharply. "He's a lighteyes. They're all bastards and murderers. Some are just better at hiding it. I'm not going to get caught up in that."

Moash nodded. "Kal's right. Dalinar may be better than most, but I still wouldn't touch that with a ten foot spear. Better we stick with our own, and let them keep to their own."

Kaladin nodded appreciatively. 

"Hear that, Syl? No more tricks," he murmured to the traitorous spren. 

She huffed and zipped off. Well, let her sulk. Her little tricks weren't enough to change anything.

~

Adolin could not take his eyes off of Kaladin. The man walked with his own men, well to the back. From atop Sureblood, however, Adolin could still see him. They kept close to their bridge, though soldiers took turns carrying it for them. Despite their collective exhaustion, the troops did not seem to resent the task, and instead almost seemed to take some pride in assisting their saviours. Adolin could understand that. 

What he could not understand was the total and utter _rejection_ that he had just experienced. Adolin had been dumped before, but never so thoroughly—and by someone he did not even know. What was he going to _do_?

"You cannot make him want you, Adolin. And frankly, he is far below your station."

Adolin shook his head at his father's words. "I'm not going to give up that easily, Father. You saw him out there. He's an incredible warrior. A leader." Attractive. "I just need a chance to talk to him."

Dalinar only shook his head.

~

"I'm coming with you," Kaladin said, stepping up. He was not going to abandon the fate of his men to a lighteyes. Even a “good” one. 

"No, son, you need to stay back."

Kaladin frowned. "I don't—“

Dalinar turned, frowning. "If Sadeas even catches a _whiff_ that you're Adolin's soulmate, he won't surrender you if I offered him the entirety of my lands _and_ the throne. You stay back."

That...made sense. Kaladin hated it, but storm him it _did_. So, he nodded once and stepped back. "Moash, go with him. Syl, would you go too?"

"Right, Kal." He dropped his tone. "And if this goes south?"

"Be ready to fight. I'm not getting slaughtered without trying."

Moash nodded, pleased, and then followed Dalinar towards the Sadeas camp. 

Adolin hesitated, glancing back at Kaladin. Well, Kaladin met that look with a glower and the princeling slunk off. Good. 

"Kaladin—“

He waved away Teft and marched off alone, waiting.

~

"Father—“

"Go with your brother, Adolin,” Dalinar said, cutting Adolin off. He raised a hand, stilling Adolin's protests. "I know you want to go see the bridgeman, but now is not the time. He has work to do, and we're all exhausted. Your personal feelings can wait."

Reluctantly, he nodded. His father was right, as usual, but it was hard to admit it. He wanted to see his soulmate, even if the man was prickly as a whitespine. Now, however, was not the time. They all needed a break, even him. 

Dalinar patted his shoulder. "Get some rest. We can worry about this in the morning."

Adolin nodded. Reluctantly, he turned away and headed back to their quarters. It did not take him long to catch up to Renarin and Aunt Navani. The former sent him a questioning look as he fell into step with them.

"Adolin..."

He smiled. He couldn't help it. They had lived through Damnation and, barely, come out the other side. But they _had_ come out, with Adolin's soulmate in tow.

"I met him."

Renarin sent him a quizzical look. "Him?"

"My soulmate, Ren. He's one of the bridgemen. Their leader."

Renarin's face split in a small smile. "Really?"

Adolin nodded. 

"What's he like?"

Here, he sagged. "I...don't really know. I barely got to talk to him."

His brother's hand landed on his shoulder. "...I'm sure tomorrow will be better."

Renarin did have a talent for picking up on what Adolin did not say. He nodded. "You're right. Want to come see him with me?"

Renarin smiled. "Of course."

~

Thankfully, Dalinar did not bring up the subject of his son. Instead, he allowed Kaladin to focus on the matter of relocating his men. It was a large task, made all the worse by the exhaustion plaguing his bones. He did not allow himself to stop until everyone was away from the camps, however. They got their wounded settled in, and an army surgeon even came to check them over.

Kaladin felt as though at least _half_ the weight of Roshar had been lifted from his shoulders—at least for now. 

After his late meeting with Dalinar, Kaladin returned to their barrack to the familiar scent of stew. He accepted a bowl with a grateful nod. Taking a seat, he had only eaten a bite when the eyes on him became unbearable. Glancing up, he scowled.

"Oh don't be like that, Kal," Moash said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We're just curious."

"Well, take it somewhere else. I'm not interested in talking about it."

Teft refused to be so easily deterred. Taking a seat next to Kaladin, he pressed on, "C'mon, Kal. It's not like it's Sadeas. You could do worse than Dalinar's son."

"I could also do a lot better. 

"Listen, a lot of people go on to live perfectly happy lives _without_ their soulmate. And honestly, I don't think I'll be missing much."

Skar snorted a laugh. "Kal's right. Their breed are all the same."

"This thing, Kaladin, does it mean something to you?"

Oh Rock, always ready to read him like an open book. "...maybe once," he admitted at length, "but it hasn't in a long time. And it means even less, now."

Rock didn't press, but Kaladin could tell he wasn't entirely convinced. Well, let him think what he wanted. 

"Just gonna ignore it then, Kal?" Teft asked. 

"I am, and you'd all do well to do the same. I don't want to hear any more of this. We have more important things to worry about."

"What, like playing bodyguard to your little prince?" Moash teased. 

Kaladin stood, taking his stew, and stalked off. He had work to do.


	2. Words of Soulmates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is undeniably the longest chapter I have ever written. At over 17,000 words it's longer than my previous multichapter Kadolin fic in its entirety. Amazing how we grow, isn't it? 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! Part three has not yet been started. Fingers crossed I can get it done in a timely fashion...hahahah... (Not to beg but...comments help. A lot.)

At his father's insistence, Adolin left Kaladin alone for the first few days. As much as he wanted to go see him, he could appreciate that the man needed time to acclimate to the sudden upheaval in his life. While the change was for the better, it had to be stressful nonetheless. 

...but there was only so long that he could wait. 

Four days after The Tower, Adolin and Renarin headed down to the bridgemen's barracks. Together, they wound their way through the former slaves. Surprisingly, their passing drew barely a reaction from most of the men, an experience Adolin was unfamiliar with. He held his tongue, but frankly they were a sorry lot. Most barely seemed to _see_ them pass, and the few who did didn't respond beyond a weary glance.

Father wanted these men for soldiers? That seemed an impossible task, at least until Adolin found him. Their leader. The one they called Stormblessed.

Adolin's soulmate.

He was walking through one of the crews, Adolin didn't know which one, talking easily with the men there. Catching Renarin's arm, Adolin pulled them to a halt, watching.

"Is that him?"

Adolin nodded. Kaladin Stormblessed was a man of tension and hard lines. Unruly, dark hair curled about his shoulders, and his eyes were hard with the intensity of a man who had seen and done terrible things. His expression as he spoke to the former slaves, however, was almost soft. It was not difficult to see that he truly cared for them. 

Storms, the man was beautiful, inside and out. 

"You're drooling," Renarin murmured.

Adolin frowned over at his brother. "I'm allowed to look."

"Of course. Just try to keep your eyes in your head."

Adolin shoved his brother lightly. 

Their light-hearted bickering had drawn Kaladin's attention. Looking annoyed at the interruption, he strode over to them. "Princeling."

"Bridgeboy." Adolin couldn't quite stop his smile. "I'd like you to meet my brother, Renarin."

In what Adolin was quickly starting to realise was characteristic of his soulmate, Kaladin frowned. "What are you doing here? Don't you have someone else to bother?"

Adolin frowned back, speaking to him like that was fine, Adolin could handle it, but to speak like that to Renarin—

"And you're wasting your brother's time." 

Adolin relaxed. "He wanted to come see you."

"What, like I'm an attraction at a menagerie?"

"What, no, I just—“

"I was hoping to meet you. I, um, haven't met my own soulmate..." Renarin said. 

Kaladin softened, marginally. Adolin might not have noticed had he not been watching so closely. "Great, you've met me. Now, if you'll excuse me, some of us have work to do." He nodded back to the men. 

"...um, right," Adolin said. "Can I...see you later?"

"No," Kaladin said without preamble. And with that, he walked off.

Adolin let him go. Almighty...

Renarin patted his arm awkwardly. 

~

"Adolin, your—“ Renarin was frowning, gesturing to his forehead. 

Adolin sighed. What now? Standing, he headed over to the mirror and brushed aside his bangs. There, on his forehead over Kaladin's brands, lines had appeared. So, Kaladin was getting his brands tattooed over. While it wouldn't have _hurt_ to have asked him, Adolin did not begrudge him. 

...the strange part was when the lines melted away. Nothing could be simple where Kaladin Stormblessed was concerned, it seemed. 

~

Adolin was not easy to discourage. Over the next few weeks, he made a point to visit Kaladin as often as he reasonably could. It was...trying, at times. Kaladin seemed utterly dedicated to pretending he did not exist, aside from supplying a guard detail for Adolin. 

But Adolin did not stop trying, could not stop trying. If he did, his years of waiting would be for nothing.

...and under it all, Adolin truly found that he _liked_ Kaladin. The man was stubborn and arrogant, as well as downright rude, but he was also dedicated and caring and so, so hard working. Whenever he got frustrated with it, all Adolin had to do was watch Kaladin interact with his men to remember what he saw in him. 

So, he persisted, doing his best to encourage and help Kaladin. As often as he could, he went to the training grounds to try to help with Kaladin's training. They sparred occasionally, and though Adolin always won, Kaladin put up an impressive fight. He had no fear in the face of Shards, an impressive feat on its own. He was also quick on his feet, smart, a fast thinker, and skilled beyond reason. Adolin enjoyed their bouts. So, he bore the scoldings he got from Zahel and persisted. At least in their bouts, Kaladin actually interacted with him. 

So, he pushed further, following Kaladin when the man was sent to learn to ride. Adolin loved horses, but, as it would turn out, Kaladin did not. In fact, he almost seemed to be afraid of them. It was a novel experience, and Adolin could hardly be blamed for investigating, right?

So, Adolin had pushed him. 

Kaladin had risen to the challenge, and wound up looking a fool. Despite his frustration, Adolin was impressed. Kaladin faced his fear like a champion. Adolin wanted so badly to get to know him. 

But it almost seemed...useless. 

~

Adolin was nothing if not persistent, Kaladin had to admit. The man managed to turn up _everywhere_. Kaladin went to train with the ardents? Adolin was there, practicing. Head into the market? Adolin just so happened to be shopping, guards in tow. Kaladin and his men went to the paddock to work with the horses? Adolin was there, brushing his beast of a horse. 

...so that was where Kaladin was, now. His dogged soulmate watching keenly as Kaladin saddled a horse for a ride. Almighty, was it not enough for Kaladin to have to guard this man, he had to follow him off-duty, too? Especially here, of all places. 

"You're getting more comfortable riding."

Kaladin grunted. 

"Talkative as always."

"Are you always so annoying?"

Adolin smiled—he did have a nice smile. "One of us needs to talk, and I don't think we can count on you."

Kaladin scowled, seizing his mount's reins. "I have work to do."

"You're just practicing, right? Let me come. I'll give you pointers."

Kaladin hesitated. It _could_ be beneficial to learn from someone as good as Adolin—but it was also _Adolin_ , the man who did not know how to take no for an answer. The man who actually seemed to believe a lighteyes and a darkeyes could ever have more than a fling. Or, perhaps the most outrageous delusion, that Kaladin would ever _want_ anything to happen. Utterly ridiculous.

"No," he said, turning away. 

"Kaladin..."

He didn't turn back and in a bout of stubbornness, Adolin nodded for a groom to saddle his stallion and hurried after. "I'm coming with you. You can be my guard for the day."

"You have guards," Kaladin snapped, glancing to the two bridgemen tailing Adolin. "Drehy and Hobber are doing just fine. Besides, I'm not going anywhere." 

Kaladin flipped the reins over his horse's head and made to mount. Adolin caught the bridle. "Yes, you are. Come with me." He led the horse back towards the stables.

Grumbling loudly, Kaladin followed. "Where are we going?"

"To get you a better mount."

"You better not mean that storm-blasted mare." The incident with Dreamstorm was still a sore spot. 

Adolin smiled. "No, I'll make sure you can handle this one."

Kaladin grunted, but didn't openly object. What good would it do? The prince was on a roll, and the best Kaladin could do was try not to get trampled underfoot. It was the same way as with all lighteyes. 

Re-entering the barn, Adolin handed the gelding off to another groom. "Fetch Flight, please," he said.

Kaladin tried not to feel too frustrated as Adolin stared him down the whole time the horses were readied. He had no intention of running off, much as he might want to, and did not need to be babysat. He stayed silent, however, doing his best to ignore the scrutiny. 

Once the horses were finally ready, Adolin led the way back outside. Snatching the reins of the new horse, he made to pull himself into the saddle, only to be stopped by Adolin. Again. 

"What, Princeling?" he snapped.

"Check your gear, first. Don't just trust in someone else to do it all."

Kaladin hesitated, then nodded. Hadn't something similar happened to the king earlier that year? It was sound advice. He would not ignore a good point, even if he hated the source.

He checked his saddle girth, and then adjusted the stirrups, set for a short person, to a more suitable length. Then, giving the horse a brief pat, he mounted. 

Adolin, who has been sweet-talking his beast of a horse, soon followed suit. "Let's leave the camp,” he said, riding off without waiting for a response. 

With a tired sigh, Kaladin booted his horse into action—and was forced to grab its mane when it lunged forward. "Wh-whoa—!“

"Pull up!" Adolin warned. 

Kaladin spared him a glare, but took the advice, tightening the reins in his other hand. The gelding stopped swiftly, tossing his head in discontent. Frustrated, Kaladin glared at Adolin. "What is wrong with this animal?"

"Nothing. He's well trained and doesn't have one foot in the grave. He's exactly the sort of animal you'll be riding on patrol."

Kaladin frowned, but nodded. He could see the importance of getting used to this, then. Still, a warning would have been nice. 

Infuriatingly, Adolin laughed. "Come on, bridgeboy. Follow me."

Wordlessly, Kaladin rode after him. He didn’t have time to be annoyed for long, as the horse took nearly all of his attention, and what little remained was spent on their surroundings. They had, at Adolin's insistence, left the other bridgemen behind, so Kaladin also had to act as bodyguard. 

It was too bad he was struggling so much with the storming horse. 

"Relax, Kaladin," Adolin said after a time. "He can sense your tension and it's working him up."

"How, exactly, does he do that?"

"Your muscles. You're tense. He can feel that."

Frowning, Kaladin tried to do as suggested and relax. It sounded stupid to him, but he had to acknowledge that Adolin was the expert, here. Only a fool ignored the advice of someone more knowledgeable. But storms, it was difficult to give Adolin any leverage...

Though he tried to take the advice, that was much easier said than done with the storming creature jumping around under him. Every time he would relax his thighs, Flight would toss his head or dance forward, making Kaladin tense all over again. That, in turn, only made the horse’s jigging worsen. 

Adolin rode his monster closer, chuckling softly. "Easy. He's not going to hurt you. Just ease up. Loosen the reins."

Kaladin scowled. "Excuse me, princeling, but that seems like a _storming terrible idea_.” 

"Trust me. He can feel the tension on the reins. It's only serving to work him up. A tight rein means get ready."

"A thought that's what a loose rein meant!"

Infuriatingly, Adolin laughed. "It's complicated. You can learn all about it later. For now, here—“

Adolin reached down, closing a hand over Kaladin's own. In response, Kaladin tensed further, making Flight toss his head and snort. 

"Easy, Kal. Relax. Horses are smarter than chulls," Adolin said softly. "Give him some credit. For this partnership to work, you have to put the same trust in him that he's giving to you."

Under Adolin's gentle prodding, Kaladin slowly, reluctantly, loosened the reins. As he did so, Flight's head tossing gradually stilled, and he slowed from his overly fast pace. 

"There, see? You can do this," Adolin praised, directing that winning smile—the one that absolutely did _not_ make Kaladin's heart speed up—at him. "You're a natural."

Kaladin scoffed, turning away so he did not have to look at that storming _smile_ anymore. Almighty...

"Let's just get this over with."

"I don't know. I could think of worse things to be doing than spending time with you."

Kaladin felt his cheeks heat faintly at the blatant flirting. To cover his embarrassment, he glared at the prince. "Either teach me something worthwhile or go back." Storms, he could not let Adolin win. Lighteyes _were not to be trusted_.

Adolin, never one to be dissuaded, smiled back at him. "Just relax for now and follow me."

Grumbling, Kaladin wasn't given a chance to protest as Adolin heeled his stallion into a trot. Flight had to work twice as hard to keep up with the Ryshadium's massive strides, and Kaladin quickly found himself distracted by trying to remember what to do.

Posting. He'd been taught about that. It was more comfortable for the rider, and, if done correctly, the horse as well. He remembered how to do it, just...what was it? Inside leg? Well, they were going straight, so that didn't matter, did it? Still, he glanced down, checking the horse's shoulder movements.

"Now now, bridgeboy. No cheating."

Kaladin sent him a glare. "What's it storming matter?"

"It's about learning to move with your mount. A horse is a living creature. He's moving, he's alive, he thinks for himself. He will conduct his own body, and you need to work with him. Sit back and _feel_ what he's doing. You want to be able to understand his movements so you can respond instinctively in battle."

Kaladin hesitated, then nodded. A warhorse was a weapon, the same as a spear. He needed to feel the horse like an extension of his body. So, no shortcuts. He looked up, scanning the horizon, and allowed himself to feel the rise and fall of the horse's back with his own body. He found that he actually _could_ feel the rise and fall of each side of Flight’s spine, even through the saddle. He made his own body respond in kind. 

He continued as they rode, Adolin calling pointers and correcting his actions when he made a mistake. Kaladin made himself focus on the guidance. He needed to learn this.

They stopped once they were well away from the camps. Kaladin followed suit as Adolin pulled up Sureblood, causing Flight to toss his head and yank back against the reins. He had stopped, but made his displeasure known. 

"Easy. He only needs light pressure, Kal."

Gritting his teeth, he did as told, releasing the pressure. Flight immediately lowered his head. 

"Come here. Hop off and drop the reins over his head. He'll stand still."

Dismounting, Kaladin swung the reins over the horse’s head and dropped them to the ground. True to Adolin's word, the horse remained stock still. Then, to Kaladin's horror, Adolin scooted back in his saddle, and then back over the cantle, dropping onto his horse’s back directly.

“Get on."

Kaladin scowled. "I'm fine down here."

"You want to learn? Let me show you. Up."

"I'm not getting on the monster."

"We talked about it already. Sureblood won't hurt you."

"That's not why."

Adolin, infuriatingly, rolled his eyes. "Kaladin. Get on the horse."

He wasn't going to win this, was he? With a dark scowl, he stalked over to the stallion and grabbed the saddle. Shoving his left foot in the stirrup, he hauled himself up. Adolin caught his right ankle as he swung it over, gently easing it passed himself so he didn't accidentally kick the prince off the horse. 

Then he was settled in the saddle. Picking up the right stirrup, he frowned. "...they're too short."

Behind him, Adolin snorted a laugh. "Of course they are. Not everyone is ten metres tall. Most of us are a far more reasonable height."

"I can't ride like this. You're too short."

"Good thing you don't have to. Here."

To Kaladin's horror, Adolin leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Kaladin's body. Tense and scowling, he tried to elbow the man back. "Adolin...!"

"Relax, okay? I'm not going to do anything." His voice was soft. Calm. "Just let me show you. Take the reins."

Against his better judgement, Kaladin, slowly picked them up. Sliding his hands down the reins, he tightened his grip. And then Adolin's hands were over his, warm palms pressing into the back of his hands, and long fingers encasing his own. To say nothing of Adolin's chest pressed flush against his back. 

Almighty help him, he couldn't move. He could barely _think_. 

...and he certainly could not look at Syl, who was zipping around gleefully. 

"Relax," Adolin instructed softly. "Horses feed off our emotions. If you stay calm, so will they." He guided Kaladin's hands a few centimetres back up the reins. "Now ask him to walk. Don't use your legs, just your voice."

Despite the lump in his throat, Kaladin forced himself to cluck softly. Sureblood started walking. 

"Good. Now keep your hands down and low. His head will rise and fall with his steps, and you need to move your hands with his body."

Kaladin swallowed and tried to follow the directions, but by the Ten _Heralds_ it was difficult to focus on anything other than Adolin's warmth. 

They continued for a time, Adolin instructing Kaladin on how to use his entire body to steer the horse. It all made sense, and the advice actually did make riding easier. More natural. If only focussing wasn't so hard.

Eventually, much to Kaladin's relief, Adolin instructed him to stop next to Flight, then assisted him in dismounting. 

"You're a quick learner, bridgeboy," Adolin praised. 

Scowling, Kaladin collected his horse and mounted, immediately turning for home. Enough. He'd had enough. Storms that had been—

He didn't think about anything on the ride back. Not about how much easier it was to handle the horse, and _definitely_ not about how cold his back felt without Adolin there.

~

"You can't keep this up, Adolin. At least consider Jasnah's proposal. This fling with Captain Kaladin is...not only inappropriate, but it also seems to be futile."

Adolin sighed at his father's words. "...okay."

"You will consider?"

"I'll...give it a try. But make sure she knows, Father. I won't hurt anyone, even unintentionally." 

Storms, he did not want to admit defeat, but after their recent ride, Kaladin seemed more distant than ever. Maybe...maybe as painful as it would be, it was actually time to consider throwing in the towel. Maybe.

For now, it couldn’t hurt to meet the girl, could it?

“Very well. I will let Jasnah know.”

Adolin nodded, unable to find his voice.

~

Adolin couldn't take his eyes off Kaladin. The bridgeman was, somehow, sound asleep standing. How tired _was_ he, to sleep like that? And through a Highstorm no less! Wasn't he always out doing something? Almighty, if it was possible to feel _tiredness_ through the bond, Adolin suspected he would not be able to function.

...he wished he could help, but Kaladin didn't want him. Didn't even seem to want anything to _do_ with him. Not for the first time, Adolin wondered about the young woman coming to meet him. What was she like? Would they get along? 

Would she help him move passed Kaladin?

His thoughts were cut short by Kaladin's eyes snapping open and stabbing into him. Adolin froze, stupefied, as Kaladin jumped up. 

"We have to go."

"Kaladin—“

"Now, princeling. Something's wrong. The assassin—“

That got Elhokar's attention. "Assassin?" he demanded, storming over. "What's this about an assassin?"

"Yes, captain. Did you see something?"

"Not now. I'll explain later, just get Elhokar out of here."

Adolin's father held Kaladin's gaze a long moment, then nodded. "Very well. Let's get moving."

Adolin frowned, but followed suit without commenting. What about an assassin...?

xXx

Adolin clutched his arm, staring down at the bone-white skin of his hand. He could still feel it, still move it, but it looked like the hand of a dead man. The wound of a Shardblade. Kaladin had taken that injury, defending them, and then tackled the assassin in white out of the hallway and into the pouring rain. 

Adolin stared at his hand. 

"Adolin, come on. We can worry about that later."

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Adolin summoned his Blade and joined his father and Elhokar in retreating to safety. 

Almighty...

xXx

The colour was returning to Adolin's hand. He stared down at it as his father and Elhokar conversed softly. How was that possible? Was it...because Kaladin was dead? Could that happen? Did some wounds heal after death? Adolin had never heard of that happening, but who could say for certain? 

He wiggled his fingers, frowning. Kaladin was dead. Dead saving Adolin's family. It wasn't—

The door slammed open, and Kaladin stomped into the room. Adolin did not wait, and jumped to his feet, quickly offering his shoulder in support of his soulmate. For once, Kaladin did not object. 

Adolin helped him over to a plush chair, then lowered him into it, before releasing him with some reluctance. He was alive. Warm and breathing and...and in possession of two working arms?

"Captain, how—“ Dalinar started.

Kaladin shrugged. "He must have slowed my fall somehow. I don’t exactly know what happened."

"Where is he, bridgeman? The assassin? Where did he go?" Elhokar demanded.

Kaladin shrugged, wincing faintly. "I passed out. When I woke up, he was gone."

...he really was a bad liar, Adolin decided. But if that was a lie, what was Kaladin hiding? And why? He glanced at his hand, then at Kaladin's. And _how_?

xXx

"Kaladin."

To his relief, Kaladin actually stopped, turning to look at Adolin. "Princeling."

"Listen, about...what happened. And...”

"...and?" Kaladin prompted, clearly impatient. 

Adolin frowned at him. "What happened to your arm? I saw the assassin cut you! And my hand—“ He raised his arm, which had returned to its normal colour.

Kaladin frowned back. "Cut me?" Kaladin raised his hand. "My arm is fine."

Adolin glanced at his sleeve, at the perfect cut in his uniform. "My hand went white."

"Wasn't because of me." He shrugged. "Must have gotten hurt yourself." 

"Your _sleeve_."

"Damaged in the fighting."

"Was it," Adolin said flatly. 

"Yes. Now mind if I go? I have more important things to do."

Adolin groaned. "Fine, go. Storms cursed man."

Kaladin was a terrible liar, but he was more than stubborn enough to make up for it. Without another word, Kaladin turned and stalked away.

Watching him go, Adolin sighed. “...will you ever trust me?”

There was a faint hitch in Kaladin’s stride, but the man did not stop, or even slow. Adolin let him go. 

~

Kaladin scowled at the woman smiling up at Adolin. Assassin? Spy? Gold-digger? It was difficult to say which she was, but she had to be one of them. It was made all the worse because Adolin seemed so _enamoured_ with her. Honestly, didn't he see what was going on? Idiot nobles...

What was Adolin even doing with her? They were...were...

He quashed the thought. They were nothing more than guard and charge. Sure, they were soulmates, but that didn't matter to Kaladin. It was a _relief_ that Adolin was moving on. Really. Maybe now Kaladin could get some peace and quiet. 

So it definitely _didn't_ bother him that Adolin was there, laughing with Shallan over afternoon tea. Not at all.

...honestly, did they not have better uses for their time? For _Kaladin's_ time? Storms, he needed to assign someone else to these two.

xXx

Adolin sighed as he watched Kaladin watching him. The man looked like someone had replaced his breakfast with chull dung. It was Kaladin's normal expression, but also somehow...worse.

"...you really like him, don't you?"

Adolin blinked himself back to awareness, then smiled awkwardly at Shallan. "I—sorry. What were you saying?"

Shallan smiled sadly at him. She really was very pretty, and honestly wonderful in just about every way. Witty and intelligent, and curious nearly to a fault. She was amazing. It was almost too bad that _she_ wasn't his soulmate.

"Listen, Adolin, if you want—“

He shook his head, cutting her off. "It's not a matter of what I want," he admitted. "He's not interested."

"For someone not interested, you do seem to be the favoured topic of his eyes. Too bad his expression looks worse than something a Highstorm blew in."

"He's just doing his job," Adolin said, ignoring her quip. "He's a bodyguard."

Shallan met his eyes with an amused smile. 

"He doesn't care about me, Shallan."

"You certainly do seem to believe that."

"I tried," he admitted, ignoring her jibe, "and I failed to get his attention. I'm a job to him. It's like...if it was _my_ ship that sank, and I was eaten by the santhid—“

"—they wouldn't do that—“

"—he wouldn't care. Stormfather, he'd probably be relieved!"

"I doubt the stormfather would care much about your untimely demise—unlike myself who would care very deeply—unless it made old stormfaced over there even more gloomy. Why—“ she paused, then winced. "Sorry, that was inappropriate."

He shook his head. Her comments made his head spin at times, but she wasn't mocking him. He thought. "I am sorry you got dragged into this."

"Well, one man's loss is, erm, another woman's gain?"

Adolin smiled warmly at that. "It was a blessing in disguise. I'm glad you came."

"So am I," she agreed. "Even if you do wind up leaving me for old stormfaced there, I'd still choose to come."

That was a relief. Because he would, he knew, leave her in a moment if Kaladin changed his mind. He dreamt of his soulmate far too long to not give it a try. 

...but Kaladin wasn't interested. 

"Thank you, Shallan." He grinned. "Now shall we go walk around in the seediest places in the camp and drive him crazy?"

Shallan grinned. "Why Adolin, I thought you'd never ask."

~

The duel. Dual. Hah. What a joke. There had been far more than two. And Adolin should be dead.

But, he wasn't. Kaladin had...had saved him. Them. 

He had to do _something_.

~

Kaladin had saved him, and, more importantly, Kaladin had saved Renarin. When Elhokar had ordered Kaladin locked up, the decision had been an easy one for Adolin. If Kaladin deserved to be imprisoned, so did he. 

He shouldered his way into the prison, moving passed the hapless guards and entering the depths of the building. 

"Please, Brightlord, you mustn't—“

Adolin held up a hand, silencing the soldier. "Just do as I ordered and make certain a member of Bridge Four guards with building at all times. That's all you need to worry about."

"Yes, but—“

"This is my decision, soldier." When had he started sounding so much like his father? "I'm going to do it. As long as Captain Kaladin is here, I'm staying."

Refusing to humour further protestation, Adolin marched in, bypassing the earliest cells and proceeding until he found the prison's only occupant. 

Kaladin was standing, pressed up against the bars of his cells, a confused look on his ruggedly-handsome face. " _Princeling_? What are you doing here?"

"Same thing as you. Being locked up for winning a duel,” he said, opening the cell and stepping inside. Without further fanfare, he slammed the door. 

Kaladin was silent for a long moment, then the cell rattled as he shoved against the bars. "Storming fool. You don't belong here."

"Funny, I'd say the same thing about you." Adolin grinned. 

Kaladin snorted. "Elhokar—“

"Yes, Elhokar _was_ a storming fool."

"...I ruined your plans."

"No, Elhokar did. He overreacted, lost control of the crowd, and let Sadeas slip away." Adolin frowned, then, and turned to lean back against the bars. "...I'm sorry, Kal. I should have explained the formality of duelling to you before this happened."

Kaladin merely grunted. 

"You made a mistake because you didn't understand the nuances behind it. Hardly warrants all of this."

"...do you really believe that?"

"I do, Kal. I really do," he said honestly. "I know you're a good man. You've saved my father and my brother, and even me." Adolin sighed. "Storms, and you don't even like me, do you?"

There was no response, and at last Adolin gave up, heading to the cot. He had refused the earlier cells, the nicer ones, wanting to stay closer to his soulmate, but Kaladin clearly was not interested in conversation. 

So, the usual.

Adolin did not have to wait long before several guards arrived, bearing a nicer cot and extra blankets. He allowed them to rearrange his cell. There was no need to be a _total_ heathen...

~

Adolin watched his father depart in silence. Silence. That had been the theme of the past few days. Kaladin was not exactly a skilled conversationalist, and his father allowed very few visitors. 

Except himself, apparently.

"Storming lighteyes."

The unexpected comment, spoken with pure _venom_ brought Adolin to his cell's door. "...Kaladin?"

He heard the other cot squeak as a large body dropped onto it. "Why is it that you lighteyes always assume your problems are the only ones that matter?"

Adolin hesitated, frowning. He knew Kaladin didn't like to be pressed, but he also seemed...distraught. Adolin could hardly ignore it.

"Was it what my father said?" he asked gently.

There was no response, and eventually Adolin moved from the door. Another failed attempt.

"...Roshone was sent to my hometown."

Adolin froze. He had, of course, listened to the discussion Kaladin had been having with his father, but nothing in their discussion had prepared Adolin for this particular strike.

"Where are you from?" Adolin asked, starting with what he hoped was a safe question.

"A small town, Hearthstone. In Sadeas. Roshone was sent to us after our previous lord passed away."

Adolin stayed silent for a time, carefully reading between the lines. There was clearly more to this story. Kaladin didn't like Roshone, but why?

Adolin held back, not asking. He'd let Kaladin tell it when it suited him. If.

"...I was supposed to be a surgeon, like my father. I could have made it. Should have. But Roshone? He didn’t like my family."

Adolin frowned. If Kaladin's father was a surgeon, they must have been high ranked, for a darkeyed family. Third or second dahn. A low ranked lighteyed lord like Roshone? There was a real possibility for strife, there.

...but Kaladin's family would always lose.

Our previous brightlord, my father was good friends with him. He...left my father some money, to pay for me to go study in Kharbaranth. Roshone thought he was entitled to those spheres." Kaladin's voice was tight, tense. “Father wouldn’t give him the money.”

Adolin whistled softly. "That..."

"Then, Roshone decided to hunt a whitespine. Got his son, Rillir, and better men than himself killed. But he lived, thanks to my father, but Roshone...he only cared that we couldn't save Rillir."

"...couldn't?" 

"Father said we couldn't even try," Kaladin said softly. "Trying to save Rillir would have ended with them both dead.

" _Storms_ , sometimes I think we should have."

"And...Roshone knew about that? That you left his son."

Kaladin hesitated for a long moment. "...yes. He heard father order me away. Dammit, Adolin. Father _was_ right, but Roshone will never see it that way."

Almighty, that could not have gone well for Kaladin's family. 

"What...what happened? Kal?"

"...he forced my younger brother into the army. I volunteered to go with him. Amaram broke his promise to protect Tien, I broke my promise to protect Tien, and then—“

Heralds above, had his breath actually hitched?

"...and then...what you said in the arena? It's all true."

The only answer was Kaladin smacking the door, making the entire wall rattle. 

Adolin ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a long, hot breath. "Damn, Kal. I'm..."

"Sorry? Don't bother. It won't bring my brother back."

Adolin frowned, both at the words and at the pain in Kaladin's voice. "It shouldn't have happened."

He scoffed. "For once, Adolin, we agree on something."

"...this kind of thing, it happens a lot, doesn't it?" he asked softly. Almighty, this was the reality of the darkeyed class. Even high ranked ones.

"All the time," Kaladin replied, voice tight. "Too many of your kind treat us like crem."

Your kind. "...I guess I can't really blame you for hating us. Hating...me."

It Kaladin's turn to huff a long sigh. "...I don't hate you," he said at length. "The fact that you believe me about Amaram is—“

"...I believe a lot more than that."

"...yeah. You're...a good man, Adolin. Your father, too."

"We try. But even we aren't perfect."

"No," Kaladin agreed slowly. "Is anyone?"

Adolin laughed. "I doubt it."

"But some are worse than others."

"....that's true," Adolin agreed. "But I think...most people try, in their own way. Take Jakamav, he was my friend. And he tried to kill me. That _hurt_ , but I guess I can understand. Everyone only wants what's best for Alethkar. For the world. We just disagree about how to go about things."

"That's one way to put it."

Adolin moved, placing his back against the wall separating their cells. "What do you think?"

Kaladin groaned. "Sometimes, Adolin, I wish I knew."

"Try me." 

There was a long stretch of silence. Briefly, Adolin fancied he could hear Kaladin muttering to himself, but it was too low to discern any meaning. At last, the bridgeman sighed.

"...everyone makes bad choices. Some just have the power to make their choices hurt others. Storms, even my father contemplated—he said he wouldn't. But he thought about it."

"...letting Roshone die?" Adolin tested.

"Close enough. My father is the best man I've ever known, and even he thought about it."

"Thinking and acting are not the same thing."

"No," Kaladin agreed. 

"...Elhokar is a fool," Adolin said slowly, thinking. If he was going to make Kaladin think about this, he would too. "But he's my cousin, and I do love him. He's trying to live up to my uncle's name, but—he's not Gavilar. And nobody knows that more than he does. Father means well, but I know he overshadows Elhokar too much. It's not an easy position for either of them.

"...but father loves him. And so do I. He's not evil, Kal. Just foolish."

"And Sadeas?"

"Definitely evil. Some people are irredeemable."

"Something else we agree on." Kaladin fell silent again, muttering. "Though...maybe that's something we need to let their actions decide."

"...what do you mean?"

"I mean that," he hesitated, "just because I don't like someone, it doesn't make them evil."

Adolin grinned. "Like...me?"

Kaladin snorted. "Like you."

xXx

Storm it all, Adolin was—Kaladin stepped away from the bars and went to sit on his cot, burying his head in his hands. 

"Kaladin?"

He sighed and looked up. "Is...is he right, Syl?"

She floated over to him in the form of a tiny whitespine. "I think you both are, Kaladin," she said, reforming into her usual, girlish figure. "You just don't know it, yet."

Kaladin grunted. They were both right. If he only cared about people who thought like he did, where would that get him? He would be no better than a lighteyes who demanded everyone agree with them. 

He couldn’t place it, but something about that felt important.

~

Kaladin pulled Moash aside once the others had left the prison. "...I gave you those shards," he said firmly, "and I want you to use them to defend the Kholins. You need to stop meeting with those men. I mean it this time."

Moash sighed, casting a side-eyed glance at Kaladin. "...okay. Okay. Fine."

Kaladin clapped his shoulder. "Take the Shards as reparation. I know it doesn't bring them back, but nothing will. We have to move forward."

"...I know that, Kaladin," Moash snapped. "Storms just...thanks for the Shards. I'll...find something else to do. I'll leave your precious king alone."

Kaladin nodded. That would have to do.

~

"...you could be a little nicer to Adolin, you know."

Kaladin glanced at Shallan. They were crossing one of Dalinar's massive bridges. Ahead of them, Adolin walked alongside his father and aunt, chatting amicably. Apparently, she had seen fit to join him. 

"I fail to see why you have any interest," he grumbled. "Wouldn't you prefer I stay out of it?"

"No," she said frankly. "What I want is for him to be happy, and for that you could at least try to treat him like a person."

Kaladin sighed. He _did_ like Adolin, that was exactly the problem. Adolin had stood by him when even Dalinar wouldn’t. Adolin had talked to him. Encouraged him. Tried to _give him a full set of Shards_ , then let him give those same shards to Moash. 

He was a frustratingly good man, for a lighteyes. And even for a non-lighteyes. Kaladin could see a path to himself and Adolin, and that terrified him. Best to just let Shallan have him. They were a better, more sensible match in every way. Some triviality decided by the chance of their births was not good enough to overcome that fact.

He glanced up, a retort brewing on his lips as his gaze fell on Adolin. Passed Adolin. At the bridge. At the—

The pieces snapped into place. He leapt forward, heart rising in his throat. "Adolin the bridge!"

To his credit, Adolin didn't need a lengthy explanation. Or any explanation, really. He reached for his father, but before he could do anything, Dalinar had grabbed Navani and _shoved_ her forward. She stumbled, nearly falling as she cleared the last of the bridge onto the plateau. 

Then the ground was gone. Shallan screamed from behind him, and ahead, Adolin and Dalinar also let out yells of fear and surprise. In a flash of fury and panic, Kaladin twisted in midair and reached out—

xXx

Adolin floated slowly to the ground. He felt physically sick. His father was okay. Dalinar had, to Adolin's knowledge, summoned his new Blade and caught himself on the chasm wall. He should have been pulled to safety by now. Without Shardplate, that shouldn't be too difficult. 

Below him, slowly coming into view, were the still forms of Kaladin and Shallan. He felt sick. Dozens of other bodies lay around them, but he found it difficult to care with the sight of them, bloodied and broken, on the stones.

...yet, somehow Kaladin had saved him. In fact, Kaladin had saved him first. Not Dalinar. Not even Shallan. 

The glowing light sustaining him ran out. With a yelp, he fell the last few metres. He hit hard on the chasm floor, knees buckling under the impact. He dropped to all fours, gasping in shock and pain. Around him, painspren winked into being. With a groan, he forced himself to Kaladin's body. Almighty, by some miracle—

Kaladin groaned as Adolin touched his shoulder. Heart rising in his throat, he croaked out, "Kaladin?"

With painful slowness, Kaladin sat up, clearing blood from one eye with the back of his left hand. There was no cut that Adolin could see. "I'm alive, Adolin."

He squeezed Kaladin's shoulder, then forced himself to crawl to Shallan on bloodied knees. The painspren followed. Oddly, none stayed with Kaladin. 

Shallan lay a short distance away, near the base of the chasm wall. She was laying face down, limbs splayed out. Blessedly, none looked to be broken.

"...what a time to have left my Plate off," he mumbled as he crawled. His head was swimming. He hadn't hit it, he didn't think, but he still felt dizzy. Each movement was agony, but he persisted.

"If you hadn't, I couldn't have saved you," Kaladin mumbled, joining him next to Shallan's still form. He took her wrist. 

"Kaladin—“

"She's alive. The Stormlight saved her," he said setting her wrist down. 

"Stormlight? Storms, bridgeboy, what _happened_? How did I—I _floated_." His ears might be ringing, but he remembered that clearly enough.

"I Lashed you so you didn't fall," he replied, almost distantly. "I tried to get to your father after but he was okay, so I slowed Shallan's fall as best I could. Ran out of Light, though. Couldn't stop it completely."

Adolin understood less than half of that, but he got the gist of it. 

"You...used it all on me?"

Kaladin didn't respond. The implications screamed at Adolin. Almighty, he...had Kaladin...?

Adolin grabbed his arm and yanked Kaladin around to face him. Despite his obvious grogginess, Kaladin still managed his famous glower in response. 

"Princeling—“

Adolin sucked in a deep breath. Kaladin was about to kill him, but they'd die down here anyway, so what did it matter? He was on borrowed time. Just...once. Just storming _once_.

He released Kaladin's arm, set a hand to his chest, and shoved Kaladin back against the chasm wall. Then he kissed him. 

Under his hand, he felt Kaladin tense, but it was a long moment before the expected shove came. Adolin fell back, not resisting as he sat down hard on his rear. 

"Adolin...!"

"I shouldn't have done that," Adolin admitted. 

"...we need to get out of here."

Adolin swallowed, both disappointed with and relieved in the topic change. He nodded. "Shallan?"

"She should regain conscious shortly. She...she has her own Stormlight."

Whatever that meant.

"How? How do you—?“

"Later, Adolin."

Shallan groaned. Letting it go for now, he hurried to her side, helping her sit up as she began to stir.

"Adolin?"

"It's me," he assured. "Kaladin's here, too." He glanced over to Kaladin, who was checking the other bodies and pointedly ignoring them.

"What..."

"We fell. Bridge was trapped. Kaladin...I think he saved us."

She took a deep breath. "I...I saw that. I saw a spren. A windspren."

A windspren? Adolin hadn't seen anything of the sort. 

"He said it was Stormlight. I don't know what it did. He...also said you could use it?"

Shallan hesitated. "...he's mistaken. I don't know how to do that."

Adolin sighed. "I mean, neither do I. And I lived."

"So...he saved us both?"

Adolin frowned. "I...think so?"

"Well, I guess he's worth keeping around after all."

Kaladin stomped over, and Adolin couldn't help a small smile. It wasn't returned. "We need to go. I could fly us out, but I used all the Stormlight getting down here alive. These few spheres I found aren't enough." He held out his hand, which glowed with the light of a few diamond marks. 

"So we have to walk. Could you not have flown us up instead of down?" Shallan asked.

"And risk dropping you again? You both fell as it is. You'd be dead if I'd done that."

"...for now, I'm grateful to be alive," Adolin cut in. "So we have to what, walk back? Sounds fun. Good bonding time."

Kaladin grunted.

xXx

Kaladin did his best to ignore the two. It proved to be impossible. Adolin stayed close to Shallan, gaping over her maps as she worked out their route. Kaladin hated it. He wanted—storm it, he wanted Adolin to go back to fawning over him like that, and he _hated_ that he wanted it.

"You're the one who pushed him away, Kaladin."

He glowered at Syl, who was hovering in the air in front of him. He knew that. Storms, he knew it.

"But he still wants to give you a chance."

"And Shallan?" he bit back. 

"She knows what she came into, and you deserve happiness too."

"Happiness."

"He makes you happy."

"Syl..."

"He does."

"It's not that simple."

"No, Kaladin," she prodded him in the chest, though he didn't feel anything, "it is that simple. He makes you happy. You make him happy. Be happy together."

He sighed. She didn't understand the complexities of society. The social differences. Adolin couldn't—

Adolin had kissed him. It was the shock, it had to be, but it had still felt...nice. Kaladin could almost say he wanted more. But Adolin was with Shallan and that could never happen.

"Stop it, Kaladin. You're brooding. You're allowed to let yourself be happy."

"Syl..."

"Just try it!"

Kaladin sighed. Storms, he was tempted.

"...maybe," he said. "Later."

Syl sighed, loudly, and zipped away.

xXx

They continued to push hard, desperate to find their way home before the next Highstorm. Syl proved invaluable in keeping them from going the wrong way, and Shallan's diligent mapping kept them from going in circles. But still it took too long. 

The bottom of the chasms grew dimmer. The storm was hours out, yet, but the air still felt...different, somehow. Heavy. Syl was getting restless, also, zipping about in what would appear to be nervousness in a human. 

"Kaladin, you humans can't survive down here! Kaladin!"

"I know, Syl," he ground out, eyes narrowed. Storms, he couldn't just let them die! But how could he save them? He couldn't even save himself.

"You're sad again."

"Syl..."

"I know how to cheer you up."

Kaladin paled. "Syl!"

She ignored him, zipping away. Panicked, he hurried after her. "Syl!"

She stopped, directly in front of Adolin. And judging by his shocked expression, he could see her. Kaladin ran faster.

"Adolin Kholin," she said seriously. 

"Syl!"

"Uh—um. Hi?"

She drifted closer, still in her girlish form. "Do you like Kaladin?"

Kaladin groaned, burying his head in his hands. Stormfather, just smite him now. Lightning. A boulder. Even just blow him away. Anything but this. 

"I...uh, yes?"

"Who...are you?" Shallan asked carefully. 

"Sylphrena! I'm Kaladin's partner."

"His partner?" Adolin asked.

"You're...an honourspren?" Shallan asked, surprising Kaladin.

"Yup! And I need to know if Adolin likes Kaladin."

"Syl—“

"Do you?" she pressed, still ignoring Kaladin.

"I've met worse..." he said with a weak, but cheeky, grin.

"Syl now isn't the time—“

"Now is never the time with you. You won't tell Adolin, so I will," she said dismissively. She placed a hand to her mouth like she was about to whisper, a very human gesture. Too bad she didn’t grasp the nuance of volume and spoke normally. "Kal really likes you. You make him happy."

Kaladin _groaned_.

"I...do?" 

"Yup. He likes being around you. And when you fell, he was really scared he wouldn't be able to save you. And in the arena—“

Syl! Enough! We have to go!" Kaladin yelled, feeling his face burn. "We don't have time for this."

"No, I'm interested," Shallan said. 

"Kaladin, do you really..." Adolin asked softly. 

Storms these people. "Enough! Let's go—“

Scraping. 

They all froze, gazing back down the chasm behind them. 

"That's—“ Adolin began slowly. 

"Run," Kaladin said.

They sprinted away. Kaladin led the way, his spear, where they'd strapped their few spheres, held aloft for light. 

Ahead of him flew Syl, for once silent and serious. He followed the glowing trail of light that marked her passing, leaping puddles and dodging detritus. 

And then Syl doubled back. "Not that way."

They nearly collided, pulling to a stop. 

"What? Syl!" Kaladin yelled.

Then the chasmfiend rounded the corner, trumpeting a victorious shriek. 

Kaladin stumbled back, placing himself directly in front of the others. He clutched his spear in sweat-slicked hands. 

"Run, Adolin, Shallan. I'll hold it off."

"No," Adolin refused immediately, stepping up as his Shardblade dropped into his waiting hand. "I'm not leaving you."

Storms.

"Shallan, get away," Adolin said. "Find a place to hide!"

The chasmfiend shrieked and lunged at them. It was alarmingly agile for such an enormous creature. It raised a claw the size of a horse and swung it at them. Gritting his teeth, Kaladin jumped nimbly back, blocking the worst of the blow with his spear. The wood snapped like a twig, but at least it hadn’t been his body. 

To his left, Adolin fared even worse. Though his weapon didn't break, he was knocked hard to the ground, grunting in pain as his leg twisted under him. 

The chasmfiend bleated in fury and lifted a second claw, raising it to strike. 

With a curse, Kaladin ran forward, placing himself in front of Adolin. With a snarl of his own, he clutched the half of his spear that remained and braced himself for the blow.

"Kaladin! The Words!"

The Words. The truth Adolin had helped him realise days before. Thoughts could change. Feelings. His own experience with Adolin proved that.

Everyone was special to someone. To think his feelings were the only ones that mattered was pure selfishness. 

He stepped forward as the monster moved to swing, and raised aloft his broken spear. Then he glanced back at Adolin, who was struggling to rise.

"I will protect even those I do not like, so long as it is right."

Light streamed into him from their few spheres, as well as a trickle from down the chasms. Gemstones, lost to the depths, surrendering their meagre light to him. He lit up like a beacon in the blackness of the cavern.

The chasmfiend recoiled, bleating in protest at the sudden flare of light.

"Kaladin! Stretch forth thy hand!"

At Syl's call, he did as requested. A Shardblade formed there, long and sleek, and glowing with an ethereal light. Kaladin had seen enough of the things to know that that was not normal. 

"Ready?" Syl's voice asked in his mind. 

"Ready," he agreed, and Lashed himself upward.

He landed atop the monster. Pressing a hand to its shell, he infused it with Light and stepped into it, Lashing himself in place. Then he straightened, Blade clutched tightly in his hand. Confused, the chasmfiend bellowed, lunging forward into the darkness of the cavern. 

Kaladin felt a moment of panic. He could not see in the darkness, but Adolin was down there, wounded. With a yell, he thrust his blade down, easily sheering through the chitinous plates atop its back. 

It gurgled in pain, and slammed its body against the walls of the chasm, attempting to dislodge him. A hail of rock showered down, clattering against its shell and Kaladin. He did not budge. 

"I need a longer weapon,” Kaladin muttered, yanking his Blade out. 

_Oh, I can do that. Want a really long spear?_

Without waiting for a response, Syl reformed into exactly what he envisioned. Long of shaft, with a blade over a metre long. He smiled grimly to himself. That was going to be very useful.

Unsticking his feet, he dashed forward, switching back to a sword to sheer off its spines as he dashed towards the head. Then he switched to the spear and jumped, spanning the distance from its shell to its head. With a holler, he slammed his spear down through its skull. 

He released Syl as the chasmfiend thrashed in its death throes, grabbing onto a spine to help his balance. After a stressful few seconds, it finally quieted and went still. 

xXx

Shallan had not run. Truthfully, she would have tried to help, except storm _faced_ had stolen all of the Storm _light_. He was a Windrunner, according to Pattern, a useful order for escaping giant pits, if only he'd had some Light. 

She dismissed Pattern from being a Blade and raced over to where she could just barely see Adolin in the darkness. He was hurt, but she didn't think it was critical. Sure enough, he was on his feet by the time she arrived, staring up at Kaladin, who was glowing bright enough to rival the sun. On a cloudy day. 

...and was he ever staring. 

Kaladin stood tall atop the chasmfiend, head thrown back and was he _laughing_? Storms, gloryspren, of all things, were popping into being around him, and she could even swear she spotted a single _joyspren_. 

Then Kaladin met Adolin's eyes. 

Shallan watched as Adolin beamed up at a smiling— _smiling!_ —Kaladin. He truly was lost to her, then. Well, she supposed, he had never truly been hers. And that was okay. 

Watching them...maybe she should make a real push to meet her own soulmate. There seemed to be something to the whole thing, after all.

xXx

Adolin glanced over as Shallan strode up alongside him, and smiled at her. "Guess we lived after all."

"Still think he doesn't care if you die?"

"What do you mean?"

"He killed a storming chasmfiend for you, Adolin. If that isn't a declaration of love between you soldiers, I don't know what is."

"...Shallan."

"It's okay, Adolin. I think I want to find my own soulmate. Watching you two reminded me of that."

"...we...really aren't the best example."

"Really? Because you made him smile. How many spheres do you think that’s worth?"

Adolin looked away, back up at Kaladin. "All of them."

Shallan elbowed him gently. "Careful, you might just turn _him_ into a romantic if you keep dropping lines like that."

Adolin smiled. If only he could be so lucky.

"...I'll keep my promise.” Adolin said after a lengthy pause. “I will help your family, no matter what."

"I know you will."

-

Kaladin leapt down, trying not to let himself get distracted by the smile on Adolin's face. 

"We need to find shelter. That storm isn't far off."

"Can't you just...fly us away?" Adolin asked.

"I don't have enough Light, and I doubt I could outpace a Highstorm anyway. Our best bet is shelter while we have time."

"Do you have an idea?" Shallan asked.

He nodded. "I'm going to use the rest of my Light to fly up and cut a hole in the rock. We know how high up the currents rise, so I'll cut it away from the wind and above that. 

"Adolin, could you follow behind me and cut out handholds so Shallan and you can climb up?"

"I can try," he agreed. "Just try not to drop too many rocks on my head."

"I'll try," Kaladin said, "though it might improve your intelligence slightly."

"As long as they aren't the ones from your skull," Shallan retorted. 

"You'd really want to risk ruining my pretty face?" Adolin replied on top of her. 

Kaladin glanced between the two, then settled on Adolin. "Guess not. So keep your head down. Let's go." Summoning Syl, he stepped into the air.

Kaladin fell up to his chosen location and cut out handholds and footholds for himself, ensuring he had a way to hang on once his Light was gone. Once he was satisfied he could maintain his balance, he turned his attention to his task.

With Syl's help, Kaladin set to work cutting out a hiding place in the rock wall. The stone was easy enough to cut, but the thin slices did not leave him enough space to get his fingers in. He had to chop each piece smaller and smaller in order to get his hands in and pull out the shards of rock. He cast these well aside, not wanting to hit Adolin, who he could hear working below.

The task took longer than he wanted. By the time he dropped back to the ground, the wind was picking up, sending eerie echoes through the empty caverns. Kaladin frowned as he joined the others. 

"Ready?"

"Adolin's hurt," Shallan said frankly. 

Kaladin frowned. "Can you make the climb?"

"I will because I have to. Let's go."

Kaladin nodded, satisfied for the moment—though worry did still tickle at his mind. If Adolin couldn't make it... He shook the thought away and led the way to the wall. Syl, at his request, hovered close, visible to all of them. It wasn't much, but her glow was better than nothing to illuminate the handholds. 

He nodded, satisfied. At least Adolin had gotten this done. "Well, if you made it up once, Princeling, you can do it again."

"It...wasn't me," Adolin admitted. "Shallan did it."

Surprised, Kaladin glanced between the two. 

"Turns out she has a Blade too."

He eyed Shallan. There was something there...

But later.

"Head up," he told Shallan. "We'll follow in case you fall."

"...no peaking," she said pointedly, but did not argue. As she set off, Kaladin nodded to Syl, who would stay close, helping Shallan see.

"...tell me honestly, Adolin, can you climb?"

"I told you before, I have to," he replied, voice grim. 

Storms, that was not encouraging. 

"Be honest with me. Do you think you can?"

"I will."

Kaladin frowned. "Are you as confident knowing I'll be behind you?"

"No. You go first, Kal."

Right.

Kaladin glanced up. He couldn't see Shallan in the dark, but he could see Syl hovering a few metres up, marking her progress. It wasn't really all that far...

"Get on my back."

" _What_?"

"Just do it, Adolin. We can argue about it later. When we're still alive."

To his credit, Adolin dropped it and did as told. It was awkward, and he was storming heavy, but Kaladin hoisted him up anyway.

Then he started to climb. To say it was difficult would be an understatement. Adolin's weight dragged him back against the already poor handholds, and he struggled to grip the stone. He dug his fingers in, however, stubbornly refusing to let his grip slacken. He could feel blood slickening his fingers, but he didn't stop to think about it. 

Syl floated down to join them, providing her meagre light. That meant Shallan was up. Good. 

The beginning of the rain hit, soaking them swiftly. Below them, water began to trickle through the caverns. Kaladin clenched his jaw and tried to speed up.

Adolin reached out, using one arm to help support his own weight. It was not a lot of difference, but it was enough. In one final push, they reached the lip of the cavern. 

Shallan reached out, catching Adolin's free arm. Clinging to the rock with one hand, Kaladin thrust his other arm back. Bracing his elbow under Adolin's rump, he pushed up to Shallan's pulling. With Adolin scrambling up, they got him inside. Moments later, four hands reached down for Kaladin, and together they hauled him in. 

He collapsed to the floor, panting. His muscles protested his every move, but he forced himself to crawl farther back, away from the opening. Shallan and Adolin joined him. The cavern was not tall enough to stand in, so they huddled in the back, away from the water that had begun to gush through the chasms.

The Stormwall hit in earnest, and Kaladin cringed, the memories of the last time he had been out in a Highstorm trying to shove their way to the front of his mind. He forced them back, turning instead to Adolin. 

"Your leg," he shouted over the noise.

"It's fine, Kal. Just a sprain," Adolin shouted back.

Kaladin shivered. "Let me see it." Storms it was cold. If only they had made it just a bit sooner, before the rain.

"After," Adolin snapped back. “Just...get over here. Storming...cold."

Kaladin gave up. It was cold. So cold. Shallan was shivering, and she wasn't even wet. He crawled closer and together they huddled down, Shallan in the middle. In front of them, a short distance away, Syl's faint glow illuminated their small cave. She had her back to them, facing the storm. 

Cold, wet, exhausted, and relieved to be alive, they clung to one another and waited for the storm to pass.

xXx

"Someone say something," Shallan said some time later. The worst of the wind had passed, though it was still loud enough that she had to raise her voice to be heard. 

"Wh-what should we talk about?" Adolin asked, obliging as always.

"I have an idea," Kaladin said, surprising even himself. "Where did you get your Shardblade?"

"Oh, I wondered that, too," Adolin said. 

"Better question," Shallan said, "is where you got yours. Even an inanimate object must be annoyed by your overwhelmingly cheerful personality."

Kaladin grunted and glanced at Syl. "You already know that."

"Do I? Then perhaps you know where mine is from."

"Anyone want to fill me in?" Adolin asked. 

Kaladin scowled. The handholds had been well done. Far too well done for someone carving with a six foot sword. "Where is your spren?"

"He's here. Pattern."

Syl floated closer, lighting up the floor...which had...begun to move? Kaladin watched in surprise as a...shape lifted off the floor to hover in the air before them.

Adolin gasped. "That’s—“

"The Cryptic! Kaladin, that's it! Oooh, I knew I saw one skulking around!"

"Mmm, an honourspren. That is most unfortunate."

Kaladin glanced between the two spren, confused. He knew Syl wasn't fond of Cryptics—of which this was apparently one—but the outright hostility was a surprise.

"It seems we're of opposing Orders," Shallan remarked. 

"Orders?" Adolin asked.

"Our spren might have an old grudge," Kaladin said calmly, "but we're on the same side."

"Hmph," Sly said, zipping back to his shoulder. "But the Cryptics can't be trusted!" 

"We're allies, Syl," he reminded. He had no desire to fight with the only other possible Radiant he had ever met.

"Mm, allies, yes. Friends? Perhaps not. Mm. Too prudish, the Windrunners."

"Windrunners?" Adolin tried again.

"At least we know how to tell the truth," Syl retorted.

"Can someone fill me in? Kal! Shallan!"

Shallan coughed politely. "Um, right. Sorry, Adolin. I think...Kaladin and I might...be Radiants?"

"...how...long? Storms, you both know my father is trying to refound the Knights Radiant!"

"With Amaram at their head," Kaladin retorted sharply, cutting him off. "I'm not getting mixed up in that!"

"...I can't argue with that, but it doesn't change who—what—you are. I'm sure we can sort something out—“

"Not as long as he's involved," Kaladin said sharply. 

Adolin sighed and turned to Shallan. "...and...you?"

"It's been years," she admitted. "I...don't really know how or why. But I only recently started to understand what I was. I'm still trying to work out all of the details myself."

"We need to tell my father—no, Kal. We do. We can sort out the Amaram situation. But he needs you, needs you both."

"I...know, Adolin, but—“ Shallan tried.

"No, Shallan. No butts. This is bigger than you. Than me. Than all of us. We need you two."

Kaladin sighed. "I...know. I was going to tell him so many times, but..."

"Amaram? I get it," Adolin said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get that sorted out. I promise."

Insanely, Kaladin wanted to believe him. 

xXx

They fell silent again after that, each with their own brooding thoughts. Kaladin felt almost...relieved that at last his secret was out beyond Bridge Four. But with that relief came an entirely new set of anxieties. 

What was going to happen now? He was going to have to trust Adolin, and that trust was not easily given. But Adolin had never let him down. In fact, Adolin had never been anything short of charming and kind and...and...

Storms, this was his _soulmate_ , and try as he might, he could not shake or deny that truth. Because he did like Adolin. He liked him a lot. No amount of denial was going to change that fact. The man simply resonated with him, and the more time Kaladin spent with him, the less that fact bothered him. _That_ should probably bother him, too, but the more time passed, the less it seemed to...

Reluctantly, he let his gaze wander to the object of his musings. The storm had rekindled their spheres by now, and when he glanced up in the steady, even light, he found Adolin watching him. When their eyes met, the storming man smiled—smiled—at him. And damn him, he smiled back. 

Adolin moved, suddenly, shifting to all fours and crawling awkwardly to Kaladin's other side. Shallan watched him, then pointedly lifted her satchel and set it down. 

"Going to try to sleep," she said, laying her head on the satchel. 

A pitiful attempt to give them privacy, but Kaladin had to appreciate it nevertheless. He'd been wrong about her. She was a good person. He would have to find a way to apologise. 

"Hey...Kal? I'm...sorry, about...before." He reached up, running a hand through his hair. Storms it should be a crime to look that good even through the mud and dirt and blood and sweat...

"You mean when you kissed me," Kaladin said flatly. 

To his credit, Adolin looked bashful. "I, uh, actually meant for pushing you about the whole...Radiant thing. Um. If you really don't want to tell me father..."

Oh. Kaladin frowned. "...no, you're right. I need to tell him. I should have already."

"I still...shouldn't have pushed you like that."

"No, you should have," Syl said, popping up. She had disappeared once the spheres started glowing again, but apparently the need to stick her nose into Kaladin's business was enough to bring her back out. "He'll never do it on his own."

"I’m so glad you're on my side," Kaladin said dryly. 

She twirled lightly, the effect odd because her dress didn't move. "I _am_ on your side. It's you who's not."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does. You work against you, so I have to fix it."

"How does he work against himself, Syl?" Adolin ventured. 

"He doesn't let himself like you," she said seriously. She walked up, as if on invisible stairs, with her tiny hands clasped behind her back. "Even though he wants to."

"Oh he does, does he?" Adolin asked, smiling. Those brilliant, blue eyes flicked up, pinning Kaladin on the spot. "Care to comment, bridgeboy?"

Kaladin grunted. 

"Talkative as ever, I see," Adolin said. To Kaladin's discomfort, he inched closer. 

Syl spun in the air, then descended so she was across from Adolin's face. The faint blue glow from her figure made his blue eyes glow. Kaladin refused to let himself react. 

"He's _always_ been like this. He's so grumpy."

Adolin smiled at him. "I don't know. I think that's just his face. I've gotten used to it."

"Good," Syl said. "He needs someone who won't be offended by his endless grumpiness."

"I promise not to be offended by it, then."

Kaladin groaned. "I'm still here."

"I know," Adolin said, slinging an uncomfortable arm over Kaladin's shoulders. "And I'm glad you are."

Kaladin groaned and looked stubbornly away. Almighty, who had given him leave to be that _sappy_? 

"So...are you, um...mad about that kiss?" Adolin asked after nobody said anything for a few minutes. 

"You shouldn't have," Kaladin said frankly.

"In my defence, I assumed you'd kill me anyway." It was an obvious attempt at a joke, but it fell flat. 

"Why? Why did you—“

"Storms, Kaladin," Adolin said, finally moving that intrusive arm, "do you really not get it? I like you. I dreamt about meeting you my entire life. I tracked your injuries to make sure you were still alive. I combed the slave rings looking for you—and yes, I knew you were a darkeyes. I _don't care about that_. You're my soulmate. That supersedes _everything_."

"...do you...mean that?"

"Yes. Every word. Ask my father. My brother. They can back it up. I wanted _you_. Not someone _they_ would think is more _appropriate_. You. My soulmate."

Kaladin had seen the signs, of course, but hearing it said so frankly was jarring.

"...do you really not care about me?" Adolin asked after a lengthy silence from Kaladin.

"...I...did. Years ago," he admitted. "But life has a way of getting in the way of these things. Storms, I wanted to meet you so badly. Then...Amaram happened."

Adolin nodded. They had discussed Amaram, back in jail together, so the prince was well informed on the matter. 

"I felt...I felt horrible, for what I'd done to you. But my friends were dead, my brother was dead, I was a slave. I didn’t have time to deal with that, so I just...didn't. Then I saw you in Sadeas' warcamp, and I panicked. We come from different worlds."

"...wait, you...knew about me?"

Kaladin hesitated. "...why do you think we came back for you? At the Tower."

"To save people?"

Kaladin shrugged. "Of course I wanted to save your men. But you were on my mind, too."

"...Kaladin, can I..."

Kaladin found himself pinned by those striking, blue eyes. He swallowed. "...if we...do this..."

"I just want one chance. Please, let me prove it to you." Storms, was he _pleading_? 

Kaladin closed his eyes. If this backfired, he would have no one to blame but himself. 

He nodded.

Adolin's touch on his cheek was gentle. Not demanding. Kaladin tensed faintly, but didn't draw away. Their second kiss was soft, tender. Adolin was a surprising gentleman about it, especially compared to the first assault. Kaladin found himself...enjoying it. 

He broke away shortly. This felt...strange. Not bad, just...it would take some getting used to.

"Too much?" Adolin asked. 

Kaladin ran a hand through his hair. "I just want to move slow."

"Of course. Is it okay if I?" He raised an arm.

Kaladin hesitated, then nodded. "At least you asked this time."

"Er, right. Sorry." Adolin settled close, slinging an arm over Kaladin's shoulders. "Please tell me if I go too far. This is new to me too, and...I might get overexcited."

Forcing himself to relax, he scoffed. "Gladly."

Adolin dragged him closer, to Kaladin's dismay. Or was it? Adolin was still damp, but he was a good deal warmer than the air. 

"...should we take a page out of Shallan's book and try and get some sleep?" Adolin asked.

"Still awake," Shallan said. "You two aren't exactly quiet. Good job by the way, Adolin. Finally snagged that fish."

Kaladin groaned.

"Couldn't have made it without you," Adolin said. Kaladin could hear his grin. Smug bastard.

"Good for you. Now, I'm freezing," Shallan said, sitting up. She inched over and huddled into Adolin's other side. He wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. "Better.”

"So, Kaladin, think you can fly us home after this?"

Kaladin grunted.

"I assume that means yes," Adolin said. Then, to Kaladin's horror—horror?—Adolin kissed the top of his head. Was this really what he was getting into? 

"Are you always such a romantic?" Kaladin grumbled. 

"Every day," Adolin whispered, hot breath ghosting over his ear. 

Kaladin shivered, and this time it wasn’t from the cold.

~

The flight home was honestly mortifying for Adolin, but the chance to cling to Kaladin alleviated some of that. But only some. 

Shallan, on the other hand, was grinning and laughing, gazing down over the Shattered Plains. Her theories, it seemed, were panning out, and it was easy to see from up here. Maybe she really could find whatever she was looking for.

The flight took longer than any of them would have liked, but Kaladin insisted he had no experience transporting other people and wanted to take his time. Adolin hated flying, but he would have hated falling a lot more, so he dealt with it—mostly—in silence. And he only vomited twice.

When the camps finally came into view, Adolin spotted what seemed to be three quarters of Bridge Four waiting by the edge of the chasms. Kaladin's men were truly loyal to a fault.

Kaladin paused them, then, and gazed down. His men, who had spotted them, began to jump and wave, shouting words that were stolen by the wind. Adolin got to see Kaladin smile again.

They landed amongst the excited crew, who then bustled them off to the surgeons' tents. 

Shallan and Kaladin were uninjured, aside from being tired, but Adolin was relieved to finally get proper attention for his leg. Kaladin had wrapped it as best he could, but it was a good thing they had not had to walk back.

Before long, Dalinar all but ran inside, his guards, from different crews, looking haggard from the sprint. Beside him was Navani, who gasped and pushed in to begin fusing over Shallan.

Kaladin had to be exhausted from the long trip, and then flying them back here, but he still forced himself to his feet and offered a salute to Dalinar. "Sir."

Dalinar returned the salute, then turned to Adolin. "You're hurt?"

"A sprain. Otherwise, I think we're all okay." He smiled at Kaladin. Better, even. "Thanks to these two." He gestured between Shallan and Kaladin.

"I was...told you flew in," Dalinar said, sounding disbelieving. "Is that true, soldier?"

Kaladin hesitated, and Adolin held his breath. 

"...are you what've I've searching for?"

Kaladin looked away, then met Dalinar's gaze. Adolin was proud of him. "I...think I just might be, Sir. We might be." He gestured to Shallan. 

"...both of you?"

"Both of them," Adolin agreed, taking over. "Turns out I was the only one who can't glow on this trip." He grinned. "I always knew there was something special about you."

Kaladin cleared his throat awkwardly. 

Dalinar pressed a hand to his forehead. "This is—“

"We can discuss this later,” Adolin said, sensing Kaladin's discomfort. "In private. Right now, I think Kaladin has something for you."

"You do, soldier?"

Clearly relieved at the change of topic, Kaladin reached over and picked up a wrapped bundle between them. "I don't think that chasmfiend will be bothering you any longer, Sir..."

xXx

Despite his exhaustion, Kaladin insisted on offering his shoulder for Adolin to lean on as they hobbled back to the Kholin's palace. Dalinar sent them a look, but did not comment, thankfully. Kaladin was not certain he could explain his stubbornness on the matter in any way that would save his dignity. 

Bridge Four followed them a ways, then bid their farewells as they approached the barracks. Kaladin ignored the curious looks sent his way. Adolin, unfortunately, did not, and sent the men conspiratorial grins over Kaladin's shoulder. He was not going to escape them, and their questions, later.

Once they made it inside, Kaladin helped Adolin to the sofa, then flopped down tiredly next to him. Every muscle ached, and his eyelids stubbornly did not want to stay open. It was not yet time to rest, however, so he forced himself to sit up. 

"...you should get some rest," Dalinar said. "Both of you."

Kaladin shook his head.

"Not yet, Father," Adolin said, thankfully reading Kaladin's mood. "Where is Shallan?"

"Navani took her to get cleaned up. I'm sure she is resting...as you should be."

"Soon," Adolin assured, "but first, Kal needs to ask you something."

Dalinar raised a brow at the nickname—and frankly Kaladin did have to wonder when Adolin had started getting away with that—but, again, he held his tongue. "What is it?"

Kaladin looked away, glaring at the floor. "Amaram."

Dalinar sighed, standing and going to pour himself some orange. He did not reply for a time, and Kaladin was content to let the silence stretch. At length, Dalinar sighed again.

"I am dealing with it. I can't tell you what I'm doing, yet, but can you trust me a little longer?"

Kaladin turned the words over in his head. He did trust Dalinar, but he did not trust Amaram and their entire institution. But he did trust Dalinar.

Adolin's hand landed on his. "My father is an honourable man, Kal. You know that."

"I know," he said. "I'll trust you. Both of you. But I won't serve as a Radiant under Amaram."

"Soldier—“

"I serve you, Sir," he said, straightening. "No one else."

Dalinar hesitated, then nodded. "I can accept that."

Kaladin nodded. "Thank you, Sir."

Dalinar met his thanks with a small smile. "I believe I should be thanking you. You saved my son again."

Kaladin snorted a small laugh. "Not me. He's much too tenacious to die."

Dalinar's gaze flickered to their hands, which Adolin had notably not removed. "I don't believe that's true. You went for Adolin first."

Kaladin started. He had not realise Dalinar had noticed that. Truthfully, Kaladin should not have done that, but...

"Don't worry. I would prefer you rescue Adolin over myself. He is my son. But I, erm, cannot help but notice that...something has changed, here?"

Dalinar looked as awkward as Kaladin felt, but Adolin was positively beaming. "Turns out I'm more stubborn than him."

Dalinar sighed and reseated himself at last. "You two do realise how...unconventional this is."

"I don't care," Adolin said sharply. "The rest of you can marry for politics, but—“

"Nobody said _anything_ about marriage," Kaladin cut in. "This is just a trial. You might not care, Adolin, but I do.”

"...but, Kal—“

Kaladin barely noticed as Dalinar silently excused himself.

He shook his head. "If we commit to anything, I have to live my entire life in your shadow. I've never wanted that. Not with the citylord's daughter, like my father wanted, and not with you. I'm a storming darkeyes!"

"I don't care! You're a storming Radiant, that has to count for something! And even if you weren't—Kaladin, that doesn't matter to me. I would never treat you as a lesser citizen. You know that, don't you?"

"You won't, no," Kaladin agreed. "But what about everyone else?"

"We'll work it out." Adolin curled his hand around Kaladin's, twining their fingers together. "Anyone who wants to disrespect you can go through me."

Kaladin pulled his hand away and leaned back. "That's exactly the problem. I don't want to have to rely on you for everything! I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, Kal," Adolin said, reaching for him again. Kaladin let him take his hand. "But does it really matter? You're a Radiant!"

Kaladin sighed. He wished he could explain to Adolin why, exactly, it did matter. But Adolin was a good man, and Kaladin did like him. All question of societal propriety and rank aside, he did want to try this. Storming man.

"...Kal?"

"I promised I'd try. So I will. But I can't promise anything, Adolin."

Adolin smiled weakly and scooted closer. Kaladin allowed Adolin to brush his bangs aside, and gently touch their foreheads together. The hard lines of the brands dug into his skin. Storms, he had put Adolin through so much already. Was it even fair to lead him on like this? This could never...

Adolin cupped the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Kaladin went. 

"I can't imagine how much these must have hurt," Adolin murmured. With his free hand, he swiped at the corner of Kaladin's brands. "You've been through so much. Please let yourself be happy. Just for now?"

Kaladin didn't respond, but he did lean in when Adolin went in for a kiss. Soft. Chaste. Sensations Kaladin was quickly coming to associate with his soulmate. When they parted, Kaladin stayed closed, studying Adolin's face.

Adolin raised a brow and smiled. "Can't get enough of my face?"

Kaladin snorted. "It's more dirt than face. But no. Just wondering why you couldn't have been more unlikeable."

Adolin smiled. "It's my curse."

"I was thinking it was my curse, actually."

Adolin's grin widened. "Why Kaladin, that was almost a compliment."

"Sorry, I'm not very good at compliments." He allowed a small smile.

Adolin hesitated. "Heralds you're beautiful when you smile."

Kaladin did not have a good response to that. Luckily, he didn't need one, because Adolin kissed him again. This one was decidedly less gentle than the previous one, but Kaladin did not mind that. This was more his style, honestly.

When they eventually broke apart, Adolin smiled at him—he really needed to stop doing that. "So, we should...probably get some sleep."

Kaladin cleared his throat and nodded. "I think I'll get something to eat, first."

"That's a good idea. I'll join you."

Kaladin didn't even want to refuse.

xXx

They wound up with the leftovers from supper. The food was cold, but neither was interested in waiting for the ovens to warm enough to reheat it. After two days of field rations, and not nearly enough of those, it seemed a feast. 

Food in hand, they returned to the small sitting room they had inhabited earlier. Laying out the meal on a small table, they flopped back onto the sofa. Hunger won out, and they ate in silence for several minutes. 

Adolin was, unsurprisingly, the first to break the silence.

"Kal..."

Kaladin grunted his response, still focussed on his meal.

"I...need to tell you something."

That drew him to a stop. "Adolin?" The man actually looked...awkward? Shy? Uncertain? Whatever it was, it was uncharacteristic. 

"...I sent your parents a gift."

Kaladin blinked, then slowly set his plate aside. "My...parents?"

"You...told me where you lived, so...I sent them a spanreed."

Kaladin frowned. "You did...what?"

"I thought...maybe you could talk to them?"

"So you...hunted them down and sent them word of me. Without asking."

"No! I mean, yes, but no! I sent them the spanreed, but I didn't mention you beyond...saying it was from your soulmate?"

Kaladin wanted to demand how Adolin had even found them, but the truth was that Kaladin had given him plenty of information to do so. Lirin was the only surgeon in Hearthstone. 

"So you just...decided all of this yourself?"

"I...guess?" Adolin winced. "I thought you might want to talk to them. Now you can."

Kaladin scowled down at his plate. "...so what did they say?"

"Nothing, yet." Adolin shrugged. "They might have gotten it by now, but I haven’t heard from them."

"Storms, Adolin...why? Why did you do this?"

"...do you...not want to talk to them?"

Kaladin fell silent for a long while. The idea of confronting his parents made him feel as though he had been kicked in the chest by Adolin's monster of a horse. He had failed his brother. He had failed his father. He had failed his entire family.

...they hated him. They must have rejected him. He couldn't blame them. He didn't want to blame them. 

"Kal? Hey, Kal." Adolin's hand landed on his knee. "What is it? I'm sorry. I just...wanted to do something nice for you. As your friend."

He looked so earnest, so genuine. Kaladin's shoulders sagged. "I...don't belong with my family anymore," he whispered.

Adolin scooted closer, wrapping an arm around him. "I think that's a lie, and we both know it."

"My father is a surgeon, Adolin. I was supposed to be a surgeon. I _wanted_ to be a surgeon. But now—I let them down. I let them all down. Father never wanted a soldier for a son.”

"Did they tell you that?"

He conceded the point with a shake of his head. 

"Then you don't know that."

"Adolin—“

"You can talk to them. If they reject you, are you really any worse off?"

Yes. Because then he would truly know. He couldn't say that, however, and merely shrugged. 

"And even if they do, Kal, You'll still have me. I promise."

"Wonderful. Only you could make that worse."

Adolin didn't say anything, but the arm around his shoulders squeezed reassuringly. At length, Kaladin let himself relax tiredly against Adolin. He was warm, and Kaladin was so, so tired. Both his mind and body were horribly overworked.

"...you can talk to them, if you want. But...I'm not ready."

"Okay. Is it okay if I have Shallan scribe?"

"Go ahead," he muttered. "Just...keep me out of it."

"Okay. I promise. Until you're ready."

Well, that might just be never.

~

As luck would have it, it was only days later when word came from the spanreed. Adolin grinned gleefully as he sent word to Shallan, asking her to come. It was time for the first step in getting to know Kaladin's parents. Then, hopefully, he could bridge whatever chasm Kaladin saw between himself and his family. 

He also sent word to Kaladin. The man had been removed from guard duty, but it was never hard to find him. Today, Adolin knew he was training with the sword, so he sent a runner to the training ring. Kaladin deserved to at least know.

To Adolin's surprise, Kaladin showed up first. When Adolin tried to greet him, however, he was awarded with a death glare for his trouble. Adolin sighed and let Kaladin take up a silent vigil in the corner of the room. 

It took well over an hour for Shallan to arrive. In the meantime, Adolin tried several times to drag Kaladin into conversation. He knew it was unlikely Kal would respond, but it still felt right to at least try. Still, it did not stop a slight feeling of relief when the door opened and Shallan walked in. The guardsman, Eth, poked his head in and nodded once before retreating and shutting the door behind him. 

"What's going on, Adolin? That message was pointedly vague."

Adolin smiled, glancing at Kaladin. "We're going to meet the parents."

Shallan's eyes widened, and then she grinned. "Congrats. That's a big step."

Kaladin shifted, clearing his throat. Loudly. 

Adolin laughed and gestured to the chair. They were in his rooms, but he had had a writing board and desk set up for her while they waited. The spanreed sat upon it, flashing innocently. 

Shallan took her seat and set up, twisting the ruby once she was ready. Adolin pulled up a chair, sitting next to her. Kaladin did not move.

Apparently the person on the other end, Kaladin's mother he assumed, was waiting, because the spanreed started writing almost immediately. 

_Who are you?_ Shallan read.

Adolin blinked. That was not how he had expected this to begin. Shallan glanced at him for an answer. 

"Uh...their son's soulmate?"

Shallan raised a brow, grinning to herself. "Nervous, Adolin?" she whispered as she wrote.

"...maybe a little," he admitted. 

_My son is dead._

Adolin's eyes widened, then he winced. "Sorry, tell them it's Kaladin." What a slip to make...

Shallan sent him a look that promised questions later, but she penned the response. 

The responses were quick and terse. _Both of my sons are dead. What do you want?_

Adolin started. "Kal isn’t—“ He glanced at the man in question, who had taken a step towards them. He looked...shocked didn't begin to cover it. Hurt. Confused. Like he'd just been stabbed? 

"They—“

Shallan started writing. "I'm asking why she think he's dead."

"Kal?" Adolin asked softly.

Kaladin glared at the parchment, then turned away, glaring at the floor instead. Adolin sighed. 

Syl appeared, standing on the desk and peering down at the words. "They're wrong. Kal isn't dead."

Adolin jumped as the desk top suddenly undulated, and then pulled away as Pattern took to the air. "Mm, a lie."

"It's wrong to lie. Someone lied to them,” Syl said.

"A bad lie," Pattern responded.

Adolin wasn’t sure, but the thought they were actually agreeing about...something. Maybe?

_Kaladin's commanding officer told us he was killed_ , Shallan read. 

“Amaram," Kaladin _hissed_.

Kaladin's mother wasn't done there. _I don't see why it's any of your business. Why don't you just tell us what you want?_

Shallan frowned as the spanreed stopped moving. "...they must have fabricated a story to hide what they'd done to Kaladin."

Kaladin's face was thunderous. 

"...Kal? Can we tell them you're here?"

Kaladin groaned. "...fine."

Adolin nodded at Shallan, and she began writing. 

_Why are you persisting with this?_

"They're hopeful," Shallan said. "That's why they haven't just cut us off."

"I have an idea," Adolin said. "Send them a picture."

Shallan nodded. "Yes. That's a good idea." She started writing. "I'll ask them to change sheets."

Once she had set her own new sheet, Shallan turned to study Kaladin for a moment. And then she began to draw. Adolin loved to watch her work. Brow furrowed, she threw herself into the work, and before long had drawn several creationspren, and even one concentrationspren. She was determined to convince them with this illustration. 

Once she had finished, set the reed, and turned the ruby, she turned to the Adolin. "Think this will work?"

Adolin gazed at the drawing. It was wonderful, as was all of her work. The drawing depicted Kaladin as he was, leaning back against the wall, arms folded across his chest and hard gaze on the floor. Every line was perfect, from the tussle of his unruly curls, to the folds of his uniform. From the Kholin crest on his shoulder, down to the dirt on his boots. Perfectly lifelike. She had outdone herself. 

"...do you want it?" Shallan asked smugly, taking the drawing and setting it aside for a new sheet. 

Adolin glanced at Kal. "...maybe."

The response was a long time coming. At last, the reed began to move. _That's our son. He's...grown up._

"He did grow UP. Tallest man I've ever storming seen," Shallan mumbled as she wrote. 

_Who are you, child?_ Shallan started. "Uh, Adolin? I think they think I'm...”

Adolin blinked, then he chuckled awkwardly. That...he hadn't forgotten, per say, but he had put it off. He was not sure how Kaladin felt about it. 

"Tell them," Kaladin said gruffly. 

Adolin glanced at his soulmate, and nodded. "Okay. Tell them sorry for the confusion, but I'm..."

Shallan nodded and started writing, reading aloud, "My name is Shallan Davar. I'm here to scribe for Adolin Kholin. He's Kaladin's soulmate, not me."

Adolin held his breath, fidgeting. Almighty, he hadn't been this nervous since meeting Kaladin himself.

_Kholin? Like...the king? Adolin, he's the Blackthorn's son._

"Um, yes. That Adolin Kh—“ Adolin began.

"Unfortunately, Mother, yes. He's okay, for a lighteyes,” Kaladin said, cutting him off. 

Shallan hesitated, then started writing. Adolin had to assume she went with Kaladin's. 

There was another lengthy silence, during which Adolin was treated to the image of Kaladin Stormblessed _fidgeting_. Rising, he walked over to Kal and slid a hand up his arm. Kaladin didn't budge immediately, but he managed to coax him to relax, and took his hand. 

"It's writing."

Kaladin tensed. Stubbornly, Adolin linked their fingers together and pulled him over to the desk. Pushing Kal into the chair, he rested his hands on Kaladin's shoulders. 

_That's...my son._

_What...happened? Where did you go?_

Kaladin swallowed. "I'll tell...tell you in person. Someday."

Adolin rubbed his upper back while Shallan wrote. After a moment, Kaladin relaxed faintly under his touch. 

_You'll come home?_

Kaladin nodded. "I...promise. Someday."

_So, son,_ Kaladin sat up straighter, _this soulmate of yours. Is he actually the son of the Blackthorn?_

"Yes, he is. I'm still not sure if that's a good thing." 

"Jerk," Adolin said fondly. 

_I suppose your mother and I did not need to fret so much when you were a boy._

Adolin glanced down at Kaladin, confused. Unfortunately, Kaladin looked just as befuddled. 

_I assume he is a swordsman?_

Shallan answered immediately. 

_And I assume he trained from a young age?_

_Oh, ignore your father, Kaladin. He's just dragging this out. We worried your soulmate was an abused child from all the injuries you were always getting. I, for one, am very relieved to learn we were wrong._

Kaladin looked surprised. Clearly, the idea had never crossed his mind. Adolin, however, could see why a parent would think that when a child never would. 

"Uh, sorry about that," Adolin said. 

_Oh, Brightlord, don't worry about it. You can hardly be blamed for that. You didn't do anything wrong._

Shallan smiled. "She seems nice, Kaladin. They both do."

Kaladin actually smiled faintly. "They are."

"They raised a good son," Adolin said. "Lucky for me."

Kaladin sighed. "You can lay off the flirting anytime."

"I could, but I really don't want to."

Shallan tapped the desk. _So, Son, a lighteyes?_

Kaladin groaned. 

Shallan glanced between the two of them, clearly waiting. When no response was forthcoming, she began to write. 

"What are you writing?" Kaladin demanded, jumping up. 

"Telling them how wonderful Adolin is. He's handsome, kind, the most talented duellist in the country, a full Shardbearer, heir to the Princedom, in line for the throne—“

Kaladin _groaned_.

"Oh don't worry. Your mother knows these are my words."

Kaladin groaned yet again.

Shallan waited, and as the reed began to write, she grinned. "She says it sounds like you got lucky."

Kaladin sat back down. "...I'm starting to think I might be."

Adolin fell silent. Shallan fell silent. They both stared at Kaladin. 

Adolin felt...warm. Oh, Almighty. Had Kaladin really just said that? His face broke out in a grin. "Kal..."

"Don't make me regret it."

Shallan was writing. Kaladin stood again, leaning over the page. "Oh, relax. I'm just telling them how sweet you two are."

If Kaladin groaned anymore, he was going to start attracting a new type of spren that Adolin had just invented: groanspren.

_I'm happy for you, Kaladin, but your father raises a concerning point. Is there any future in a relationship between you and an Alethi highprince?_

"Yes," Adolin said. "I don't care about social propriety. We'll make it work."

Kaladin sighed. Adolin knew he shared the same concerns. "Tell them...Adolin wants to try—and so do I."

Shallan hesitated, then wrote. 

_Okay, Kaladin. We trust your judgement._

Kaladin smiled sadly. "Can you tell them...thanks? And...I'm sorry. I'm...I'm so sorry."

Shallan looked like she was about to ask, but Adolin gestured for her not to. Taking a knee next to Kaladin, he caught his hands and squeezed. "They don't blame you, Kal," he whispered. 

"How can they not?" he asked. "I broke my promise to them."

"That's not your fault. It's not."

_It's not your fault, Kaladin. Don't blame yourself._

Adolin smiled softly at him. "See?"

Kaladin swallowed thickly, and didn't respond. 

"Thank them for their time, Shallan, and tell them we'll talk to them soon." This was clearly hard on Kaladin. He coaxed Kaladin up, leading him to the room's single sofa. 

She nodded, reading out their farewells as they came in. 

Once the reed was switched off, and the papers—other than the drawing—tossed into the hearth, Shallan stood to join them. "Anyone want to tell me what this is all about?" she asked. 

Adolin was seated alongside Kaladin, close enough that their thighs were touching. He squeezed the arm he had around the man's shoulders. "Kal?"

"Go ahead," he muttered. 

"Kal left home when his brother was conscripted into the army," Adolin said, intentionally being vague. He did not know how much was okay to tell. "His brother was killed in battle."

"He was just a kid," Kal growled. "I was supposed to—“

"Weren't you just a kid, too?" Shallan asked. "Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault."

"I agree," Adolin said, pulling Kaladin closer. "You know that I do."

"...I know," Kaladin muttered. "I storming _know_ , but I still miss him _so much_."

Adolin wrapped both arms around him, pulling him closer. "Of course you do. Tien was lucky to have such a good big brother."

"I was the lucky one," Kaladin choked out. Adolin was surprised to realise how close to tears Kaladin was. "He was..."

Adolin tried to conceal his shock as best he could when Kaladin grabbed him in a hug, burying his face in Adolin's shoulder. He quickly recovered, reaching out to rub Kaladin's back. Shallan joined him, sitting on Kaladin's other side and resting a hand on his shoulder. 

"...he w-was a lot like...like...you. Always...always so storming _h-happy_ , and wi-with a smile for any...anyone he'd meet. He...he always knew...how to make me smile."

Shallan smiled sadly at Adolin, over Kaladin's shoulder. "That does sound like Adolin. Your brother must have been a wonderful person."

Kaladin released a choked sob, and Adolin tugged him closer. Some wounds never truly healed. 

~  
"Moash, I told you not to see those men again," Kaladin snapped, furious. He had just stumbled across his friend whispering with one of the men Moash had introduced him to before. Once the man had left, he stormed up to confront Moash. 

"Kal, you can't deny that they're right!"

"I can, actually."

"What happened to you? Ever since you snagged that Kholin prince—“

"This isn't about that. It's about doing what's right."

"Forget it, Kal. I have a job to do."

"You're not going to use the weapon I gave you to hurt him, Moash!"

"You can't stop me, Kal. You'll see how we're right."

"I'll warn them, Moash."

"Kal—“

"Leave."

"What—?“

"Leave. You...you aren't welcome here. You aren't Bridge Four."

Moash's jaw tightened. "You're wrong, Kal. You'll see it before this is over."

Kaladin breathed a sigh of relief as he stormed off, then he went to find Adolin. Maybe he would have an idea.

Even if it cost Moash everything, again, Kaladin had to do what was right. No matter how much it hurt.

~

"I need to stay to keep an eye on the king," Kaladin said, much to Adolin's dismay. 

"We could really use your help," he tried. The idea of venturing out onto the battlefield without Kaladin at his side turned his stomach. 

"Elhokar is in danger as long as those men are running around," Kaladin insisted.

"We'll leave the best behind. The best besides you."

Kaladin shook his head. "You go, look after your father. I'll protect the king."

"...we could really use your skills, Kal. Someone who can fly."

"It's the Weeping, Adolin. There isn't enough Stormlight for me to waste it flying around. You know that."

Adolin did. Kaladin's skills would be incredibly useful on this mission, but they had determined that their Stormlight was necessary for other things. Much to Adolin's dismay. 

"Just...take care, okay? And not just of Elhokar. Of yourself, too." Reaching over, he caught Kaladin's hand. "You're not very good at that."

Kaladin squeezed his hand, making Adolin smile. "Take care of _yourself_. Who else would nag me to do useless things like sleeping and eating?"

Adolin pulled him closer. "Exactly. Which is why I don't want to leave you behind. Storms, Kaladin, we're going on the biggest mission of my life. And you're one of our only Radiants."

Kaladin took his hands and met Adolin's eyes. "And if something happened to the king? We know he's in danger. Let me protect him."

Well, Adolin could not very well say no to that. So, he said nothing, and pulled Kaladin in for a hug. Thankfully, Kaladin was getting better about contact. That was good, because Adolin would never tire of touching him.

~

Storming hero. Storming _hero_. His soulmate was a _storming hero_. 

Adolin could think of nothing else as he watched Kaladin fly into the sky, in pursuit of the assassin in white. He was a lucky, lucky man...

~

Urithiru, city of legends. Ancient home of the Knights Radiant. It was incredible. Adolin gazed up in awe, feeling almost breathless in the shadow of such majesty. 

Behind him, the armies spilled off the platform, saved from complete annihilation by the incredible work of Shallan. They weren't all here, though, and Adolin found himself watching the sky, hoping for the return of his soulmate. 

To his immense relief, Kaladin did return. The world was suddenly upended, chaos spreading across the Scattered Plains and the world, but at least Kaladin was safe. That was something. 

They eventually got a few minutes alone. There was so much to do, and so little time to do it, it seemed. But just for a few minutes, Adolin wanted some quiet. He needed a moment to process.

"Princeling?" Kaladin asked as Adolin dragged him into an unoccupied room. 

Adolin kicked the door shut and shoved Kaladin into the wall, kissing him hard. 

Kaladin seemed surprised, but he quickly went along with it, wrapping his arms around Adolin. 

Adolin broke the kiss after only a short moment, then buried his face in Kaladin's shoulder, breathing deeply. 

"Adolin?"

He clutched Kal's uniform. 

"Adolin, what’s wrong?"

He took a deep, quivering breath, unable to trust his voice yet. 

Kaladin rubbed his back. "What's wrong?" He scoffed. "Stupid question."

Adolin shook his head. "Kal...Sureblood. He—he's—“ Why couldn't he say it? It was just words. He should be able to say them. _Kal, Sureblood is dead._ Storms!

"Oh, Adolin, I'm sorry."

The compassion in Kaladin's voice was what finally did him in. He wrapped his arms around Kaladin and let out a sob. "I should...shouldn't have dragged him—he didn't—“

"Aren't you always telling me to stop blaming myself?" Kaladin's voice was surprisingly gentle. "It's not your fault. No one could have predicted what would happen here."

Adolin nodded. He knew Kaladin was right, but it was still so, so hard. Sureblood, his best friend, was left for dead in the chasms. It hurt so much more than he could have ever imagined. He clung tighter to Kaladin. 

"I...I know. J-just..."

"Take as long as you need," he whispered. "Everything else can wait a few minutes."

Adolin nodded, clutching tighter to Kaladin’s uniform. He was a lucky man.

~

"Be careful, Kal," Adolin said.

"I will. But I have to go check on my parents."

"I know. I would want to, too. I don't want to stop you, just...be careful. I'll be waiting for you."

Kaladin offered him a tiny nod. "Take care of my men while I'm gone."

Adolin nodded. "I'll write to your parents, too. To warn them. You just focus on getting there."

"You have the spanreed?" Kaladin asked, surprised. 

"I brought it just in case. Plus I like chatting with your mother."

Kaladin shook his head. "You better not be telling her inappropriate things."

Adolin raised a brow. "What inappropriate things?"

Kaladin cleared his throat and glanced away. "Just...thank you. Warn them, and see if they can warn others."

"I will. And you make sure you come back, okay?"

"Have I ever not?"

"No. Just make sure you do this time, too. I...I love you."

Kaladin started, surprised by the blatancy of the statement. They hadn't really discussed what they were in weeks, but...

"Storms, sorry. I shouldn't have—that was too much."

Kaladin silenced him with a look. "...I'll come back. I promise."

That seemed to be good enough, judging by the adoring smile Adolin sent him. Storms, he was a lucky man.


	3. Hearthstone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had a format I really wanted to follow (hence my incredible naming scheme don't @ me), but. Okay. I've barely written into part two of Oathbringer and it's already at 11,000 words. So. That won't be happening. Chapter three, Soulbringer, is being cut up. Here's the first bit.

True to his word, Adolin went to find Shallan immediately after seeing Kaladin off. Luckily the spanreed, which had been among his bags, had been recharged during the storms on the Shattered Plains. He handed it over to her and sat on the floor to wait while she got set up. They had a travel easel that had survived to make it to Urithiru, and she set a sheet of parchment on it, adding the ink and spanreed. Then she twisted the ruby, indicating a desire for communication.

"Do you think this will work?" she asked. 

"I don't know," he said honestly. Kaladin's parents' spanreed was probably out of Light by now, but he had to try. The Highstorm should have passed them, but whether or not they had thought, or cared, to charge it was anyone's guess, "but I promised Kal, so I need to try."

Shallan nodded, settling in the only chair, a wobbly stool, that they had managed to retrieve. "I hope they did," she said, voice serious. "If something happened to Hesina or Lirin..."

Adolin nodded. Shallan had really bonded with Kaladin's mother, he knew, and aside from that—Kaladin was their friend. These were his parents. Adolin would hate for any harm to befall them. "Kal's been through enough."

"Right. And if something happened to them, how would you be able to get their blessing to marry Kal?" she asked, notably not facing them. Adolin could _hear_ the grin in her voice, though.

He sputtered. "Th-that's not—“

"Oh come on. What better way to get him to finally commit than to have his parents' permission? You know he loves his mother. And his father?" She shook her head. "There's nobody whose respect he wants more."

Adolin shrugged. She wasn't wrong, per say, but it was so much more than that. He loved them, too. They would be family, he hoped—and he wanted it to be at Kal's discretion. No matter what Shallan thought.

...but he _did_ still need to earn Lirin's approval, he conceded to himself. The man was. Difficult. 

Like father like son.

"Adolin, she's here!" 

At Shallan's words, he jumped up, their discussion immediately falling aside. This was more important. He watched as Shallan scribbled a few words, their code to authenticate it was definitely Hesina. 

"That was fast."

Shallan shrugged. "I think she must keep it nearby. They rarely take long to reply."

Adolin nodded. That made sense. It was their only connection to their lost son.

_Is this important? I don't mean to rush you, but Lirin is in surgery. He has his apprentice, but they may need my assistance._

"This won't take long," Adolin dictated, "but yes, it is important." Taking a deep breath, he glanced at Shallan, who shrugged. Where to even start. 

Shallan began to write. "I'm summarising what happened as best I can," she explained. "They know about the expedition, and I'm telling her we found the city. I won't go into the cost," she winced, "but they need to know about the Voidbringers and the Everstorm."

Adolin nodded his agreement. "Maybe leave out Kal's role, if you can." Kaladin was still touchy about his parents and his soldiering life intercepting. 

"I will," she promised. "Anything else you want me to include?"

He shook his head, then remembered himself. "No," he verbalised. She was still bent over the paper. 

At last she finished and settled to wait. "...this is a lot for her to take in."

"It's a lot for all of us. Storms, I was there and even I can't believe it all happened." 

"...I can't believe we lived through that."

Adolin grunted. Far too many hadn't.

They waited in silence for several long, tense minutes, staring tensely at the stationary spanreed. At last, it began to write. _I must admit that that is hard to imagine. You are certain this Everstorm will hit us?_

"Not completely," Adolin admitted. They didn’t know anything about it beyond what it had done to the Parshendi. But he honestly believed it would. "Tell her I am certain beyond reasonable doubt, however."

Shallan nodded and wrote. "I've told her all we know."

_Very well, I will do my best to ensure our people are safe and sheltered. You are certain you do not know how far away it is?_

Adolin shook his head, though Shallan was already writing. "Shallan? Tell them...to send their parshmen away."

Shallan hesitated. "Is that a good idea? Do you think they will even be able to?"

"Just tell her."

The response was several minutes coming. _...the Storm is one thing. I can give them a reasonable warning. I do not believe I could get Brightlord Roshone to agree to that, though._

"Tell her I will take the blame. This is a direct order from the Kholins."

Shallan glanced at him, brow raised, but she said nothing as she wrote it.

_With all due respect, Brightlord, I am not certain he will believe me._

Storms, he should have thought of that. "...tell her...I'll think of something. And tell her about Kaladin. That might help."

She nodded and wrote. "Should I tell her...?"

"That he's a Radiant? No. Let...let him do that. It's his right."

"She's going to wonder, Adolin."

"I know," he sighed, "just be honest. Kaladin has some things to share himself."

_My son is coming? I am overjoyed to hear that, but it will take him weeks._

"He should be there within a day or two," Adolin said. "We think, at any rate."

_How is that possible?_

"I...think he would like to tell you himself," Adolin said carefully. 

_...very well,_ Shallan read. "Wow, she even put the ellipse.” _If he comes I may have a chance._

"Tell her not to wait on him! He might not make it in time. Storms, I—tell her to leave the spanreed on. I'm going to get my aunt. She can draft a formal order, with the king's crest."

Shallan hesitated, then quickly wrote the instructions. Adolin left her to it and poked his head out the door. Glancing between his two tails, he nodded to one. "Go fetch my aunt, please. Tell her it's important."

The man saluted and ran off. With a sigh, Adolin rejoined Shallan. Now to wait...

~

Hesina clutched the letter from the king's mother as she strode towards the citylord's manor. Lirin had to remain with his patient, but Brightlord Kholin had been insistent that she not wait. If what she had been told was true, she understood the importance.

So, she had left alone, walking quickly. Roshone would not be pleased with this message, but she had to trust that the king's personal crest, drawn by Navani Kholin's own hand, would be enough to override his doubts. And his anger. 

She was not stopped until she met the guards on the manor's door. Setting her shoulders, she stood tall. 

"Do you have business with Brightlord Roshone?"

"I do," she said calmly. Almighty help her, this was for her _son_. "It is urgent."

"Yeah? We'll see about that."

"Please," she said earnestly. "Tell him I have a document penned by the king's mother. It is urgent."

That, at least, caught young Mav's attention. He nodded to Garr and stepped inside, hurrying off to find Roshone.

"Might as well head in," Garr said, holding the door open for her. "I assume you know where to go by now."

She nodded. "Thank you, Garr." 

Heading inside, she made her way to the sitting room. Taking a seat on one of the sofas, she uneasily waved off a parshman servant who came to offer her a drink. It was difficult to look at them, after what she had been told.

Thankfully, it did not take long for Laral to arrive, and she was tailed closely by her husband. Despite years of trouble with the man, Hesina respected the woman young Laral had grown into. 

"Thank you, Mav," Laral said. "You may return to your post."

With the soldier gone, Laral took a seat herself, Toralin standing behind her. 

"My man tells me you claim to have a message from the king's mother,” Laral said.

"I do," Hesina said calmly. "I trust you recognise her crest, Brightlord," she said to Roshone while handing the message to Laral.

"And how did you get this?" he demanded.

"I have a contact with the armies," she said carefully. She did not yet feel ready to reveal the true nature of said contact. That was...for Kaladin to do, should he so choose. "Brightlord Dalinar has orders for us."

"So it seems," Laral said. Hesina could hear her disapproval. "You cannot seriously expect us to do this."

"What is it?" Roshone demanded.

"An order to send away our parshmen."

"I expect nothing," Hesina said carefully. "But those are orders from the hand of the king's mother."

"So you claim, yet what credentials can you offer? You haven't even offered a valid explanation for where you got this mysterious spanreed that is now apparently allowing you to communicate directly with Navani Kholin."

Hesina held her composure under Roshone's attack. She had expected it, and was prepared. "My son—“

"Oh your son! Your sons are dead. Are we supposed to believe that the oldest boy is magically still alive, despite the personal letter you received from Highmarshal Amaram?"

Hesina lifted her chin. Insult her, fine. But to question Kaladin... "Brightlord..."

"Oh, enough," Laral said, handing the message to her husband. "Kaladin isn't the issue, here. Does this look like Brightness Kholin's handwriting?"

Roshone grumbled. "That's for you women."

"The crest, then," Laral said, annoyance colouring her tone. 

He glared at her, but snatched the paper. He stared at it for a time, then handed it back. "...it could be."

"Very well. Then we will be forced to act upon these orders. But Hesina? This had best be real."

"Of course, Brightness."

"And this second storm the message talks of?" Laral asked.

"...the details are unclear, but it seems as though it started on the Shattered Plains. They wanted to warn us so we may take precautions. They do not know when it will hit us."

"Very well," Laral said, standing. "I will see that this reaches our people. Thank you for bringing this."

Hesina nodded, standing as well. "I will return home." Lirin might need help preparing. This was going to be a disaster, and they, especially, would need to be ready.

"Come here. We have the best house in town. We will take in any wounded."

"...yes, Brightness," she agreed. Lirin would not love this, but it did make sense. They had space and security. That would have to be enough.

Almighty send that is was.

~

The town was empty. Kaladin had no way of knowing if Adolin had succeeded in contacting them, but the destroyed buildings did not tell a happy tale. It was outrageous to think Adolin would be able to. There was no Stormlight to operate the spanreed! 

He should never have dared to hope. Adolin could do many things, but even he could not make an inoperable fabrial function. And if that was the case, the warning would never have reached Hearthstone. 

Shoulders slumped, he headed towards the citylord's manor. He might as well...assess the damage.

It did not take him long to spot movement on the road. Pulling up, he glanced at Syl. "Go check it out?"

She nodded and zipped away in the form of blowing leaves. Hunkering down, he hid behind a rock to wait. It did not take long for her to return.

"Two men carrying spears. Guards, I think."

Good enough. If they were Roshone's men, then there had to be some survivors, right? He picked himself up and resumed walking, heading directly for them. 

"Kal?"

He grunted. 

"I think the people are okay."

"Then where are they, Syl?" he demanded. It was a storming ghost town!

"I...I don't know. But I don't see any signs of fighting. And I don't hear any wounded."

He paused, tilting his head. She was right. It did not smell of battle. There was no blood, no moans of the wounded. A tiny sliver of hope wriggled into his heart. "...we'll see."

Before there was time to say more, the guards finally noticed him. "Halt!"

He stopped, standing at parade rest while they stalked over. Hmph. Rusty armour, dented cap, and spear had splintery hafts. Storms, was this what had once passed for a soldier to him? 

"Are you the surgeon's son, Kaladin?"

That surprised him. "...and if I am?"

"We've been looking for you. Your mother said you would be coming."

She had—what? He suddenly felt lighter. Adolin had—he had _succeeded_. "Where is she?"

"At Brightlord Roshone's manor. Most of the people who lost their homes are there. Your parents are seeing to them."

Kaladin closed his eyes. There were...okay. He reopened his eyes to see Syl hovering nearby, looking pleased. He smiled weakly at her. Then he pressed on. His parents...

"H-hey! Where are you going?"

"To my parents," he said gruffly.

"We're to escort you."

"Then escort," he said sharply, not slowing. 

The guardsmen were left scrambling to catch up, and maintain pace with his long strides, but Kaladin did not care. His parents...

There were lights on in the manor. Though the windows had been covered, he could see faint lines of light through cracks in the coverings. He strode up to the door.

"Hey, wait. You can't just—“

He ignored them, pushing open the door and stepping into a building with activity. Here, he listened. Off in the distance, he could hear the faint moans of the injured. Squaring himself, he followed the sounds, his prior knowledge of the building telling him where triage had most likely been set up. His instincts served him well, and he quickly found the room. 

Here, he found his father. Lirin was bent over a young man, inspecting what appeared to be a dislocated shoulder. Pausing in the doorway, he simply watched for a moment. 

Lirin moved with the same clinical efficiency that Kaladin remembered. While a dislocation was painful, it was not life threatening, and there were certainly worse injuries in the room. Lirin, clearly assessing the same as Kaladin had, wiped his hands and stood to move on. Kaladin acted before he let himself think it over. Lirin would need help with re-setting the joint. Kaladin could do that himself. 

Stepping up alongside the young man, Kaladin snatched a bandage from a nearby tray and handed it to him. "Bite this," he instructed. And then, with a degree of efficiency born from the battlefield and necessity, he set the shoulder. 

The young man groaned into the bandage, his eyes squeezed shut and entire body shaking. Well, it would only feel better from this point on. Kaladin wiped his hands and turned. "Father."

Lirin had stopped to watch, not saying anything. At last, he nodded. "You've learned a great deal."

Kaladin let out a breath he hadn't noticed himself holding at the praise. "I—“

He was cut off when Lirin grabbed him in a hug. "Son..."

He hesitated only a moment before hugging back. "I...I'm sorry it took me so long to come home."

Lirin let out a shaky breath. "All that matters is that you're here now."

Somehow, Kaladin didn't think that was true, but it would do. For now.

xXx

Kaladin fell into step, assisting his father as he made his rounds. They didn't speak much, but that was okay. This felt...good. Natural. 

"Have you seen your mother, yet?" Lirin asked at last.

"No. I had only just arrived."

"...you made good time." There was an unspoken question in that. When Kaladin offered no explanation, he pressed on. "Well, you should go see her."

Straightening, Kaladin headed to the wash basin and began to scrub his hands. "Where is she?"

"She was out by the kitchen, boiling bandages. She should still be there."

Nodding, he headed for the door. Before he had gotten halfway there, however, a stocky figure stepped inside. A figure that was all too familiar to Kaladin. 

"So it is true. You know, I didn't believe your parents when they first claimed you were still alive, yet here you are."

"Roshone," he said sharply. 

"I suppose I owe your little friend over on the Shattered Plains a thank you. We got that warning just in time to brace ourselves. I do have to wonder how you know all of this, though. And how you got here so fast."

Kaladin grunted. "I'm going to see my mother. I'll deal with you later." He moved to push passed Roshone.

The citylord caught his arm, glaring up at Kaladin, then started. "Storms, boy," he reached up and swiped Kaladin's bangs off his forehead, "what'd you do? Punch a lighteyes?"

"No," he growled, yanking his arm back and smacking away the hand by his face, "but that record may be broken if you don’t get out of my way."

"Son! You can't speak to Brightlord Roshone—“

"He's a criminal and a reject," Kaladin found himself hissing, "disgraced from the king's favour and sent away to live in exile."

"Baseless accusations! Arrest him—“

"Baseless?" Kaladin glared him down. "I serve directly under the Blackthorn, Roshone." At last, the man finally paled. "Don't presume to know what I do and do not know.

"That said, so help me you are what these people have and I will see to it that you are prepared to weather the days ahead. For their sakes."

This time when he tried to push passed, Roshone let him. Stepping into the hallway outside, he stopped dead at the sight of his mother standing just behind the citylord. In one hand, she held a basket of cleaned linens. In the other—

"Mother?" he said softly, gaze flickering to the baby on her hip. 

Hesina smiled at him, a smile that was oh-so familiar. It warmed him just to see it. "Kaladin, come meet your brother."

Kaladin's breath hitched. Brother? A brother? How...

He stepped forward and reached out, hands trembling. He did not even try to stop the tears he felt building at the corners of his eyes. Oh. Oh storms, oh...

She passed the baby over, and Kaladin took him, pulling him close. He was so small. A perfect child. So delicate. Kaladin trembled, feeling the tears break loose at last. "His...name?"

"Oroden," Hesina said, her own voice quivering. 

"Oroden..." he hugged the baby. _You, I will protect._

"You...didn't mention—“

"This felt like something we would rather do in person," Hesina explained calmly. "We discussed it and agreed, so long as you did not take too long to come, we would wait upon your arrival. And...here you are. My boy. My boys."

With his free arm, Kaladin pulled his mother into a hug. "I-I'm so sorry, mother. I'm so—“

"I know. And I also know it is not your fault. I am so happy to have you home."

Kaladin held on tighter. Above him, Syl twirled in the air on gleeful winds.

xXx

Laral descended the stairs, freehand clutching her skirts to lift them out of the dirt. At the bottom, she found Kaladin. He had grown up, she knew that even before she laid eyes on him. What she was not expecting was how much. 

He was tall, now, almost unbelievably so, and muscled. He bore a scar on his left cheekbone, and were those slave brands on his forehead? Even that was not the most alarming feature. Under those too-long bangs his eyes were a brilliant blue, and harder than ice. By the tenth name of the Almighty, what had happened to him? If she hadn't been told he was here, she was not certain she would have recognised him. 

Stealing herself, she met his gaze with head held high. "So, it is true. You are alive."

"Laral..."

"We carried out the Kholins' orders."

"I heard," he said simply. "Thank you for helping these people."

Laral frowned, he sounded so stiff and formal. Then again, he had always had a bit of that streak, hadn't he? "You hardly need to thank me. It is our duty."

"You'll have to forgive me if duty isn't a thing I associate with most lighteyes."

Behind him, Hesina gasped.

Laral started. That was rude enough to border on insubordination. A darkeyes could be flogged for talk like that, especially to a woman of her rank. Only...she looked at his eyes again. 

He wasn't a darkeyes, not anymore.

She folded her arms and let the rude statement go. For now. "So, did you actually win a Shardblade?"

"No."

"Then what happened to your eyes? Is it a trick?"

And then he was holding a Shardblade. Six feet long, it glowed with an internal, blue light that stood out sharply in the poor lighting of the hallway. She gasped.

"I didn't win her," the Blade puffed away, "but she is mine."

Behind him, even his mother was gaping, never mind Toralin and the guardsmen flanking him. So, none of them had known. Interesting. Well, someone had to stand firm. Kaladin's family was already too big on itself. 

"Well, kindly don't go waving that thing about. You're liable to take someone's arm off."

"Shardblades don't work like that. And she won't cut anyone we don't see as an enemy."

Well, that was intentionally vague and misleading. Laral allowed herself a frown. "Regardless, keep it away in my house. I will not have you scaring these people."

Oh, his expression darkened at that. For a moment, she felt her composure waiver. This was...this was not her childhood friend. Not any longer. No, he was the soldier she had once dreamt he would become.

And it terrified her. 

"This is ridiculous," he said sharply. "Mother, do you have the spanreed?"

"Yes. I do."

"Please fetch it. Laral, we'll be borrowing the library upstairs. I assume you have ink there?"

"I do," she said coolly. She disliked taking orders from anyone, particularly a boy she had outranked her entire life, but she knew when a battle was not worth fighting. "You may use some."

The way his gaze flickered to her face told her the slight had not gone unnoticed. Thankfully, he had enough remaining tact not to say more. 

"Mother, can you fetch it and come with me? I need to send word to...Dalinar."

"I can get it for you, but I really should get these things to your father. He needs my help. Perhaps Brightness Laral would be so kind?"

Kaladin frowned. "Mother—“

Laral glanced between them and made a quick assessment. Pick your battles. "I would be willing to assist. Fetch the reed, Kaladin, and meet me upstairs."

Not waiting for a response, she quickly turned and ascended the stairs. 

Almighty send this did not go badly...

xXx

Kaladin frowned as he watched his old friend walk away. Storms she was not the same girl he had grown up with, was she? She had grown up to be just another one of them. 

Kaladin was glad, not for the first time, that he had not been roped into marrying her. Even if he was even more poorly outranked by his current partner, well...at least Adolin was a good person. 

Turning away, he went with his mother to fetch the spanreed, already considering his first message. This conversation had just become a great deal more difficult. He would have to speak in code. Hopefully, they would pick up on that and respond in kind. 

...at least they had taken the time to establish a code at all. 

Getting the reed from Hesina, he thanked her and headed off to the library. Laral was already there, so he passed it over and went to drag a chair over from the room's other desk. He seated himself while she finished setting up.

...then all they could do was wait. He trusted Adolin would put someone on the other end to watch for contact, but they would still need to get Adolin and Shallan. It could take time, especially in a city as large as Urithiru. 

So, that left him alone, with Laral, in awkward silence. She seemed content not to speak, but—and he realised the irony. Adolin was rubbing off on him—Kaladin was not. There were far too many years between them, but he needed to say _something_. 

"I'm sorry."

If he had caught her off guard, she didn't show it. "Sorry for? Disrupting my home? Bullying my guards? Insulting my husband? Please, do try to be more specific, Kaladin."

"No," he said, suddenly feeling defensive. He'd truly wanted to deck Roshone. Even Syl had complimented his restraint. Sort of. "For not...being here. For not rescuing you."

“ _Rescuing_ me? What, exactly, has led you to believe I needed to be _rescued_?"

"Oh come on," he growled back. "You cannot tell me you're happy married to _that_.”

"You will refrain from insulting my husband in my home, or so help me Shardblade or not I _will_ have you thrown out."

"...she's right, Kal. You shouldn't let your anger rule your words," Syl scolded. 

He glanced at her, then shook his. No, why shouldn't he? He waved Syl off. "So, what? You forgive him for sending Tien to his death? What about me? Didn't you all believe I was dead until a few weeks ago? Is that who you're happy with?"

She stared him down. "...Tien's death is regrettable—“

" _Regrettable_?" He growled. "My brother is dead and that's all you can say? It was _regrettable_? Storms, Laral! We used to be friends!"

"Of course I miss him! I missed you, too! But storm you, Kaladin, this is my life, and I do love my husband. It's not like your family is completely innocent in this. Your father has made nothing but trouble for him since he came here!"

Kaladin scoffed. "He only came here because of his own screw ups. It was his punishment, so he can take whatever is thrown his way and stop hurting these people in his petty anger."

"What—“

"I don't know what he told you, Laral, but he _deserved_ to be charged for murder. He should be in prison. Instead, we got cursed with him."

She sniffed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Kaladin shook his head, looking away. "No, I suppose you wouldn't." Unfortunately, his gaze then landed on Syl, who was glaring at him, arms folded. He hesitated under her disapproving stare. Storms, he was acting like such a child again. He needed to do better. _Be_ better. He'd taken an oath. He would—

"And you and your father killed his son.” 

Kaladin tensed. Storms. Storm it! He stood. "We killed Rillir? No, Laral. We _couldn't save him_. Storm it, I have amputated limbs on the field. I've treated sword and spear wounds that have ripped open men far better, and far stronger, than Rillir. And you know what happens? They die anyway! They always die! Because I'm not good enough! Rillir wasn't some magical exception! He was dead within minutes of them getting him to us! Trying to save Rillir would have wound up with them both dead. We can't work miracles, Laral.

"...maybe if I had ever gotten the proper training, but I didn't." He sank back down, head hanging as he muttered, "So I try. And I try. And they _die_. I couldn’t even save my own brother.”

"...Kal...Kaladin?"

He looked up, suddenly feeling his exhaustion to the bone, and met her eyes. He looked away first, feeling the long years like the weight of the world. He was angry, he was still so angry, but he couldn't let it rule him. Not anymore.

"...I'm never going to like your husband, but storm it he's all they have. So I will support him, so long as he's willing to actually listen. That will have to be enough."

"I will see to it."

He snorted. "Of course you will. Storms, I'm glad I never got roped into marrying you."

She raised a brow at him. "I think that feeling is mutual, Kaladin. It's hard to imagine you lightening up for any woman."

Taking the opening to lighter conversation, he frowned in contemplation. "You knew our fathers wanted that."

"So did you."

"But you were always on my case about how I'd never find my soulmate. Is that why?"

He was treated to her looking away suddenly. "...childish fancies. Nothing more. Do not read into it too much."

"I don't intend to," he promised. "I never wanted to marry you, anyway. It wasn't personal, but I didn't want to marry a woman above my station."

"Well lucky you you didn't have to."

"No," he agreed. "Though the universe must have it out for me, because my soulmate is in an even worse position than you."

That got her attention. "You—you _met_ her? She's a...highborn lighteyes? Who is she?"

So, his parents hadn't shared. Good. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

That really got her attention. "So...I know who she is?"

"It's likely."

"Kal, Adolin wouldn't like you using his name to bait her like this. It's mean."

Kaladin didn't know if he agreed with that—oh, she was probably right, he conceded. But Adolin wasn't here. He waved her off. Or, tried to.

"Kaladin!"

"Not now, Syl."

"...Syl?" Laral asked, looking confused. She glanced around the room. 

Kaladin sent the spren a frown. _See what you've done_? Syl just smiled, and then Laral gasped. 

"K-Kaladin, there's...a windspren? On your shoulder."

"She's an honourspren." Syl vocalised a sound like clearing your throat. Loudly. "Sorry. She's a tiny piece of a divinity."

"Better. Someday you'll remember to do it without me practically having to _tell you_."

"It—she—can talk."

"Yes, I can," Syl agreed. "Which is good, because Kaladin can't always. Honestly, it’s like a cremling ate his tongue, or something. He'll just sit there and say _nothing_ even when there are so many good things to say! So, I say them for him."

"I...see."

"Don't try to understand her," Kaladin muttered. "It's easier that way."

"Well, I think she's charming."

Kaladin groaned while Syl smiled. "I like her."

"Please don't encourage her,” he pleaded to Laral.

Laral ignored him. "So...Syl, was it? If I may ask...what exactly are you?"

"I'm an honourspren."

"Yes, you mentioned that. But forgive me, I have never encountered a spren who can...speak."

"There are lots of us, but we've only just started to return," Syl replied, as though that made perfect sense. 

"I...see?"

"Well, see, we need a bond with a human to really maintain our sentience in this realm. So I came to find Kaladin."

"To find...Kaladin."

"Well, a human _like_ him. I'm just lucky I found Kal."

"Lucky? To find Kaladin?" Laral asked. Kaladin sighed. 

"Yup! He's not always this grumpy! Sometimes he even smiles, though that's usually just for Adolin. Oh, and me."

"...Adolin? Kholin?" She looked at Kaladin. "You're friends with the Blackthorn's son?"

"You want to say it or can I?" Syl asked. 

Kaladin groaned. "Storm you, Syl."

"I'm just helping."

"You have an interesting way of showing it."

"Have I ever not helped before?"

Kaladin sighed. Arguing with her was like trying to fight the wind. "Adolin is my soulmate."

Laral stared at him. "...your...soulmate is Adolin Kholin."

Kaladin sighed and looked up. "Yes. And I wish he would hurry up and answer his storming spanreed."

"Your soulmate. Is Adolin Kholin."

"Unfortunately."

"...does he...not like you?"

"Oh no, he likes Kal a lot! They spend a lot of time together. Adolin is teaching him the sword and how to ride a horse, and Kal just grunts a lot and smiles sometimes. Adolin gets really happy whenever he—“

"Syl! Enough! You don't need to reveal private details of my life to people. That's between us."

"Oh. Well, you get it. Adolin really like Kal's mother, too. Sometimes they talk when Kal isn't around."

"Syl! That goes double for Adolin!"

She huffed and zipped away, making for the bookshelves. Well, she'd get over it. There were some things she still needed to learn.

"...so, a Kholin?"

"Yes, a Kholin."

"He's...isn't he like the most eligible bachelor in the country?"

"If people want to see him that way. He was kind of obsessed with finding me, though. At least, from what I was told."

"...he even wanted a slave?"

Kaladin whirled, catching her eyes with a glare. This time, she shrank back marginally. "Yes, even a _slave_."

"Sorry...I should not have said that."

Folding his arms, he grunted and sat back. He remained silent until, at last, the spanreed began to write. 

_Kal?_ Laral read.

Kaladin relaxed, smiling faintly. "It's me," he said.

_How was the trip?_

"Mostly uneventful, but I did run into some trouble near the end." That should tell them that the person scribing wasn't totally trustworthy. 

_Oh. That's too bad. You're unharmed, I hope?_ Storms, this sounded so stiff and formal. They needed more practise. 

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me."

 _Too bad. I always worry about you._ That was the end of the script, then. Kaladin sighed. _Are your parents okay?_

"They're fine. Everyone is. Thanks to you." Laral sent him a questioning look as she wrote. 

_Good thing I sent my future in-laws that spanreed._ Kaladin blushed and Laral sent him a _very_ questioning look. 

Kaladin opted to ignore Adolin. "I'm going to scout further, see what's happening els—“ He trailed off. Laral wasn't writing. 

"Future in-laws?"

Kaladin groaned. "His words, not mine."

"Kaladin. You have an Alethi Highprince flirting with you and your response is to talk business?"

"Yes, because now is not the time for this discussion!" Honestly, lighteyes. 

"You could at least be respectful."

"Respectful? He's my _soulmate_ —“

"—yes, but—“

"—not my officer. We are equals in this relationship. _He_ understands that."

She sniffed, then turned away and began writing. Finally. 

_That sounds good. I know Father would agree. Just be careful, okay?_

"I’m—“

Laral cut him off. _And don't you dare say you're always careful, or that you’ll be fine. You're not careful and you’re not immortal, no matter what your men think. No more duels with Shardbearers._

Kaladin grunted. 

_No grumpy grunting._

Kaladin groaned. 

_...or groaning._ Laral, storm her, was badly trying to conceal a laugh. “I-it actually—actually says—‘I'm right, aren't I? I b-bet he's scowling.’”

To his own surprise, Kaladin found himself cracking a smile. Storms, even from all the way in Urithiru, Adolin could find a way to cheer him up.

"Oh! Now he's asking if you're smiling yet.”

Never. Mind. 

"Tell him to go dive in a chasm."

Laral raised a brow at that. "Kaladin, I cannot tell the heir of a _Highprince_ to dive into a chasm."

"You can tell this one. They're my words, anyway."

"Kaladin."

When they sent no quick response, the spanreed resumed writing. _Has he threatened me, yet? It's fine if he has._

Kaladin smiled, a touch smug. "Tell him."

Laral sighed and wrote. 

_Oh, but I tried that once. I had you to save me and it was still pretty miserable._

Kaladin pressed a hand to his forehead. "Blood of my fathers, he is _relentless_.”

"It actually sounds like he likes you."

"He does!" Syl said, once again summoned by talk of Kaladin's non-existent love life. "Adolin worked really hard to win Kal over, and even then he needed _my_ help to finally go for it."

Kaladin sighed. Was nobody on his side? "Just. Tell him to be careful and I'll contact him later."

_Hold on. I want a way to stay in touch. Have the citylord give your mother a pair of spanreeds. You take one. Send your mother a glyph every night. She can send it on to me._

Kaladin turned to Laral. "Do you have an unused pair?"

"I think so."

"I'll buy it," he promised. 

She nodded. "I'll tell him we'll do that, then."

_Okay, Kal. Go, and hurry home as soon as you can._

"I will. As soon as the Highstorms return."

_We'll be waiting._

Kaladin nodded that the conversation was over. Packing up his mother's spanreed, Kaladin then took the sheets and tossed them in the hearth while Laral checked their collection of spanreeds. Eventually, she found some still paired and passed them off to Kaladin. 

"They aren't infused."

"That's fine. I can fix that. Thank you. For scribing."

She nodded. 

Kaladin left it at that, then went to find his parents. They still needed to meet Syl. 

xXx

He eventually found them taking a break in the kitchens. Offering him a tired smile, Hesina ladled out a bowl of something that smelled strongly of home. He accepted it with a grateful smile and went to sit next to Lirin. 

"So, Son, you never did explain...anything."

Kaladin clutched his bowl, swirling the liquid inside. No, he hadn't. In fact, he had left Adolin to do a great deal of the work, and Syl to do the rest. Perhaps this time...it was his turn. At length, he looked up, meeting his mother's eyes from across the room. 

"...you know I—“ He cut off, shaking his head. He didn't want to go into too much detail, especially about his choices immediately following Tien's death. He started over, "I had a...fallout. With Amaram." The name curdled his tongue. "I suppose that's where it all started."

"Where it all started?" Lirin prompted. 

Kaladin shrugged. "My journey to the Shattered Plains. It was after I made it there that...Adolin found me." Sort of. "His, uh...that is, Dalinar Kholin. He bought my freedom, and so I agreed to captain his guard after—well." He shrugged. Best not to mention the Tower, actually. 

"He...bought your freedom?" Hesina pried gently. 

"You were made _captain_ of his guard?" Lirin asked.

Kaladin groaned. He wasn't doing a very good job of this. 

"Did this have something to do with Adolin?" Bless his mother, she was trying. 

Kaladin shook his head. "Not...exactly. I mean, I'm sure it didn't hurt, but I think he would have helped me—helped _us_ —anyway. He's a good man."

"Us?" Lirin prompted. 

"The other slaves. He, uh, took us all. He wanted me to...turn them into guardsmen. Soldiers. Paid us like it, too." Kaladin rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Storms this was awful.

"And he did this because you were Adolin's soulmate?" Hesina asked.

Kaladin shook his head. Hadn't he just—oh, never mind. "It's...probably because we saved his life, actually."

"You...saved the Blackthorn's life?" Hesina actually looked shocked. A glance at Lirin confirmed that he, too, was surprised by the revelation. "...how?"

Kaladin looked away. "Let's just say it involved a lot of killing and leave it at that," he said tersely. "I wish it hadn't but—storm it, I wasn't going to let them die."

As if sensing his mood, his parents remained silent. Kaladin could not bring himself to look at their expressions. "So...that's how I got tangled up in more lighteyes' schemes. Only this time they didn't stab me in the back, and Adolin proved that he actually can see passed rank, so I stayed around." And for once, he didn't regret it.

"But, Kaladin, your eyes..." Lirin pressed, voice firm. "Was that caused by that...thing you carry?"

"She isn't a thing," he retorted quickly, a tad defensively. "Syl, would you please show yourself to them?" He looked up to where she was sitting on what Kaladin would once have thought to be an extravagant candelabra. It was rarely lit, usually only during the Weeping. Tonight it glowed with the uneven light of the candles, making Syl's translucent form flicker and dance. 

And then they both gasped. Tossing her head up, Syl changed her dress—into something much fancier than she usually wore—and descended, walking on invisible stairs. 

"I was wondering when you would remember me."

"Syl..." 

"I am, after all, a crucial aspect of your story."

"You are," he offered an appeasing smile, "and I would never leave you out of it."

"And?"

"And?"

"Where is my _compliment_ , Kaladin?"

He shook his head. "And you are the true hero of this story."

"Mm, close, but not quite. _We_ are the true her _oes_." She finished her descent and settled on his shoulder. "I won't let you forget that."

"Then what about Adolin?"

"Oh! I like him. He can be a hero, too."

Kaladin chuckled. "Okay, okay. You do remember you used to hate him, right?"

"I never hated him! I hate that...thing he carries."

"His Shardblade."

"Yes." 

"You know you're one of those too."

"Yes, but _I_ am _alive_.”

Well, he couldn't argue with that. He did need to pick her brain more, though. 

Hesina drew them from their light banter with a polite cough. "Are you going to introduce us?"

Kaladin nodded. "Mother, Father, I would like you to meet Sylphrena. She's the reason I'm here now." In more ways than one. "Syl, my parents, Hesina and Lirin."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sylphrena," Hesina said. 

Lirin looked confused, but he offered Sly a polite nod, which she returned. 

"Syl is an honourspren," Kaladin explained, keeping his gaze on the spren. "They're the order of spren that humans once bonded to...form one order of the Knights Radiant, the Windrunners. Without her, I never could have made it here."

"He's right," Syl said, "but he's also wrong. I need him, too."

Kaladin allowed a small smile. "We make a decent team."

"Hold...hold on," Lirin pressed, "do you mean to say—“

Kaladin braced himself. This was easier when he just pretended he was only speaking to Syl. But of course, that was not about to work for long. "That I'm a Knight Radiant? Yes. Storms, I don't know why she picked me, but I am glad she did."

"I think you do, Kaladin," Syl said softly. He ignored her.

"What...does this mean, Kaladin?" Hesina asked carefully. 

"It means a Desolation is coming," he said frankly. "The other Orders are returning, we have four in Urithiru already, and the spren are returning to us. We may not have much, but we won't go into this unarmed."

"And you are intent on fighting," Lirin said frankly. 

"Syl is currently the _only_ honourspren who is willing to bond a human," Kaladin said. "They need me."

"Can she not simply...pick someone else?"

Kaladin tensed. Beside him, Syl actually looked angry. Kaladin wasn't certain, but he thought from his mother's reaction that she had hidden herself from them again. 

"You could return home—“

"No." He stood, setting his untouched bowl aside. "Adolin is there. Dalinar. The Desolation _is_ coming. I cannot simply _hide_ while people I love are fighting for their lives. I will fight so that this war never touches you. I will fight to keep this war as far from the rest of humanity as I can. That is a promise."

Syl zipped over to Lirin, and from the way he flinched she must have reappeared. "And that is why I would not pick another human. It took me years to find this one. Kaladin is the right human for me."

Hesina smiled faintly. "Thank you, Sylphrena. Please continue to watch over my son."

Syl zipped over to alight on his mother's shoulder. "Right. Kaladin, eat your food. You humans need food and you have not had enough."

Kaladin grunted. 

"She's right, Kaladin, you must be hungry."

With a sigh, he picked his meal back up. Honestly...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...good readers might get smut to go with the next update. Maybe.
> 
> Also maybe I already wrote it.


End file.
